What Babcock Wants
by CCNilesBabcock
Summary: Niles' life is turned haywire when a bump to the head enables him to hear what Miss Babcock thinks. At first, he thanks his lucky stars and plans to use his gift to wreak havoc in Miss Babcock's life, but he will soon realise there is a lot more to this gift than he could've possibly imagined. Loosely based on the RomCom "What Women Want". Co-written w/ TheCrownedLioness.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hey there! We have begun yet another story! Yep, we simply cannot get tired of these two, lol. Anyway, this story takes place during season 4, right after C.C. Broke her leg when due to Niles having waxed the floor. Remember? That episode she is wheelchair-bound? And that said wheelchair goes haywire and spins without control? Yep, that episode. We hope you enjoy this story and, as usual, we'd love to get your reviews.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **H &L**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 1_**

This was going to be a _marvellous_ prank.

The ones that required a bit of preparation beforehand did always feel rather satisfying. But that might have been because when they were carried out, it meant nothing had been in vain and all the work had been a success. It was going to be one heck of a success, if he did say so himself. The floor had come up nice and shiny with that wax, and he was just about to roll a wheelchair-bound Miss Babcock right across it.

He knew that she had to come this way through the house - she'd never get up the steps through the front door such as she was. And that made it even better. She had no choice in the matter at all! Granted, she wasn't enjoying having his "assistance" any more than he liked giving it. But she was having to lump it, seeing as she wanted to be inside that day.

"Feeling comfortable in that chair, Babcock?" he asked, feigning a certain amount of interest and concern. "Not getting numb down below, are we? I only ask because there's so much of it to go numb..."

"Can it, Dust Buster," the producer growled in reply, resting her chin in her hand, elbow propped as far as it could reach on the arm of her chair. "I have a lot to do today, so if you could just get me to the office, I'll take it from there until I need to go home."

And wouldn't that be a wonderful time for them both!

But, she did say she had a lot to do that day. Perhaps she needed to get there a little faster than he was pushing?

"Very well," he said, appearing innocent. "I'll get you through this kitchen in no time at all."

Indeed he would. She was lined up nicely with the swinging door into the dining room.

Oh, this was going to be terrific...!

He took one sure step onto the waxed floor, prepared to push...

But his foot gave way underneath him, sending her chair forward only a few feet as he went crashing to the floor, smacking his head on the tiles. The blow was so strong, he had to remain on the floor for a few seconds, just holding his head in his hands. It hurt all over, and Niles briefly wondered if perhaps he had a concussion.

Through the hurt and through the utter humiliation caused by his unsuccessful attempt at pranking her, he heard Miss Babcock's loud laugh echoing in the kitchen. It was the laugh she gave whenever she was thoroughly pleased - loud and mocking. He refused to look at her; he knew she'd be laughing at him, probably with tears of mirth going down her cheeks...

"Well, that was just _wonderful_!" said C.C. in between cackles, "Looks like someone's attempt at a prank came back and bit him in the ass!"

"Says the woman with a backside the size of Manhattan," grumbled the butler as he slowly sat up. He continued to hold his head in his hands - this was surely going to require ice.

"That was a weak zinger and you know it, Hazel," said C.C. smugly.

"Forgive me if I'm not up to your usual standards of poison, but I did just hit my head on the floor," Niles snapped back, tenderly patting the back of his head to check for bumps. "And seeing as men usually vomit over you for reasons other than head injuries, I'd suggest you make your own way to the office from here."

C.C.'s eyebrows raised, lips pursed, "Suit yourself."

Taking the wheels of her chair, she turned the whole thing around and pushed her way through into the dining room. Niles thought he heard a shout of "Ow! Damn it!" and several curses follow that. In some ways, that felt like a small victory, but it was hardly worth it for the pain in his own head right then.

He had to get ice. Something cold, anything would do!

Grabbing the edge of the counter, he pulled himself up shakily, and managed to stagger to the fridge-freezer. Using nearly all of his strength, he pulled open the door and grabbed around inside the freezer section for a bag.

Peas. Perfect. He shoved it against his head, feeling a certain amount of relief at the knowledge that it would soon numb the pain. He couldn't get back to work just for the moment, obviously. He had to sit down for a few seconds and let the cold do its work first.

He really hoped that Miss Fine would spend the rest of the day out of the house - the thought of having to hear her voice when his head felt like a balloon about to pop, was more than a little distressing. He just needed some moments of peace before starting up lunch - if Maxwell wanted his food now, then he could very well order in. Despite the coldness, however, his throbbing head didn't get any better - what is more, he began to feel sharp stabs of pain on the side he'd banged against the floor.

Trust Miss Babcock to ruin his day...

Fine, the fall had sort of been his fault, but he'd done all of this in hopes of pranking her. It was her fault by extension. Period.

When the pain bettered slightly, Niles carefully got to his feet. He was glad to find he could hold himself upright, but he had a terrible headache. Even the lights seemed too abrasive for his taste. Discarding the bag of peas on the kitchen table, Niles finally got to work. He took his time when preparing each and every single aliment, taking periodic breaks so that he could rest his head. The pain seemed to be getting worse, and there was a strange buzzing in his ears...

That was odd. He'd question whether or not he did actually have a concussion, but none of the other signs were presenting themselves. He didn't feel dizzy, or nauseous, at any rate. Maybe this was something else, that people didn't get told about so much? Maybe he would ask to be taken to the hospital, when he took lunch into the office. Not that Miss Babcock really deserved it. And would no doubt make all kinds of fun out of him asking to go to the hospital, even though it was a perfectly sensible idea when a person had hit their head as hard as he had.

But Mr Sheffield would listen. He'd have to. He couldn't have his butler doing himself an injury, and then unable to work because of it! So, picking up the tray and walking as slowly as he could to ease the pain, he made his way towards the office. Each step was agonising, but if he got there he could tell Maxwell what was going on. And that would mean potentially doing something about it.

He could hear Miss Babcock's voice as he got close. It sounded like she was going over a contract. No matter. They could pick up again when something was done about his sore head. But she stopped as he entered anyway, looking up from the sheets of paper on her lap.

"Forgive me for being late with this, sir," Niles said, wincing as he put the tray down on the desk, in front of Maxwell. "I slipped and hit my head on the floor, and now I find myself in quite a substantial amount of pain."

C.C. chuckled under her breath as she went back to her paperwork, " _Joke's on you asshat_."

Niles turned to glare at the producer, but she was still focused on the paperwork in front of her, and Maxwell didn't seem to have heard her. He would have argued with her, but doing something about his head came first and foremost.

"You fell?" exclaimed Maxwell, looking up from his work, frowning.

" _I bet he wishes he'd fallen on his backside. There is plenty of it to fall on_."

Again Niles gave C.C. a dirty look. She didn't appear to mind - she wasn't even looking at him! The witch was "innocently" going over the same damn contract.

"Niles, did you hear me?" asked Maxwell, sounding more concerned that annoyed at him. "I asked if you fell!"

Niles frowned too. Hadn't he heard...? He must have! Usually he didn't allow Miss Babcock to get away with her insults when the situation called for it. And this definitely called for it.

"Yes, I heard, but haven't you-"

"Then stop glaring at C.C. and answer me, Old Man!" Maxwell cut across him.

 _What?_

Couldn't he hear the insults Miss Babcock was so blatantly banding around them?!

"Is your hearing alright, sir?" he asked his employer, actually fairly concerned at this point. How could he not be hearing this?!

"There is nothing wrong with me in any way, shape or form, Niles," Maxwell replied sternly. "Did your head injury cause some kind of brain damage?"

 _"Pfft. What brain?"_

Niles practically spun on the spot to face Miss Babcock, determined to catch her in the act of scoffing that time. But she wasn't even looking! Usually after a remark like that, she'd be grinning up at him in preparation for his retort...

"Stop looking around and face me, Niles!" Maxwell shouted.

The butler obeyed, getting irritated that there was some kind of trick being played on him, he knew it, and yet he didn't seem to be able to do anything about it.

And Maxwell was getting angrier by the second, "Now, you're going to answer me when I ask you if you really did fall and hurt your head."

Through very nearly gritted teeth (it hurt too much still to do it the whole way), Niles answered.

"Yes, sir. I did."

"Very well then," replied his employer, leaning back in his chair, "Do you need us to go to a doctor?"

 _"_ _I think the right term is veterinarian,"_ sniggered C.C..

That made it for Niles.

That, and the fact Maxwell simply wasn't doing anything to shut the socialite up!

"That's it Babcock!" he snapped, turning to C.C., who was finally looking up at him, apparently startled by his reaction.

"What did I do?" said the woman.

"Oh, will you stop pretending?" he replied, crossing his arms over his chest, "Keep your comments to yourself, Babcock. I know that the likes of you have an astounding tolerance for pain and little regard for what we humans call emotions, so let me put this in terms your subhuman brain can understand – this is no time for a. I promise I'll give you a treat if you are a good girl!"

"Alright Niles, that's enough!" Maxwell shouted, coming out from behind his desk. "I don't know what has gotten into you today, but I will not allow you to take your bad mood and unfortunate injury out on C.C.!"

Niles' face fell. Wha...?

He must have heard that one! It was clear as a bell!

"Don't give me that innocent look, Niles!" Maxwell continued to rage. "C.C. is sat here perfectly innocently, not saying a word, and you keep going off on her like she's doing you some grievous harm!"

 _Not saying a word?_ She'd been speaking all this time! Could Maxwell really not hear it? He was his oldest friend; he wouldn't look at him like he was if he really wasn't angry, and really didn't know what he was talking about or why he wasn't backing down from yelling at Miss Babcock...

Was...was it his head, doing all of this?

Oh God, maybe he really had ruptured something serious!

He began feeling for bumps again, this time with a tinge of worry attached.

"Maybe...maybe I did...damage something in that fall, sir," he admitted, not wanting to meet either his employer's or the other producer's eyes.

 _"_ _Finally you admit you are damaged, Dust Buster..."_

Niles flinched. Again, Maxwell gave no indication that he'd heard C.C.'s voice. Was he going mad? He probably needed to see a doctor urgently...

"What do you mean, Niles?" asked Maxwell, still fuming over his butler's outburst, but also visibly concerned for him - he was acting in such an odd way! That was evident for everyone in the room. Even to Niles himself at this point.

"I... I think I am hearing things..." he confessed, not quite being able to believe what he was saying. "I thought I'd heard Miss Babcock insult me..."

 _"_ _Well, it looks like someone now has a one-way ticket to the loony house..."_ said C.C. again in a mirthless (if slightly worried) tone.

 _Wait..._

No.

Said wasn't the right word here.

Niles was quite sure he'd heard Miss Babcock's voice indeed, but she hadn't spoken - he'd looked at her as she'd "spoken", and she hadn't moved her lips at all. Unless she was a talented ventriloquist, there was no chance whatsoever that she'd actually said what he believed to have heard. He had to be hearing things. The only other alternative was...no, that was impossible. Anyone who claimed they could do that was a charlatan and after money.

No, he had to go to a doctor. And the sooner the better.

Anything, to get Babcock's voice out of his head. It was torture enough that she was in the room!

Maybe he was starting to look as concerned as he felt, because Maxwell didn't look as angry anymore. In fact, he looked worried now.

"No one said anything, Niles," he said, his eyes darting back and forth between the butler and the door. "Maybe...maybe you really do need to go see someone..."

Despite the pain, Niles nodded, and his employer gestured towards the exit for him to go first.

"Come on - I'll drive you to the hospital," he said. "C.C., while we're gone you're in charge."

"Sure, Maxwell," well, Miss Babcock had definitely said that out loud!

But as he was walked to the door by Maxwell, he couldn't block out the voice as it came back.

 _"Sure Maxwell, not that I haven't been in charge of running this place for years, Maxwell,"_ the voice was mocking this time, and full of contempt. _"Useless idiot..."_

Well...

That sounded like Miss Babcock...

Niles glanced back at the producer, who appeared to be just as annoyed as the voice in his head was. But then again, there was no indication that she'd actually said anything.

What on Earth was going on?!

* * *

"Well, Mr Brightmore, everything appears to be alright," said the doctor after giving several good looks at Niles' x-rays. They'd been taken upon their arrival to the hospital. "No concussion or brain damage."

Niles frowned. That wasn't necessarily good news. If there wasn't an injury, then why was he hearing Miss Babcock's voice?

"Are you sure?" said the butler, rubbing his sore head.

"Completely. There is some bruising, but that is about it. Nothing some painkillers can't fix."

"But what about the... uh... things I heard?"

The doctor sighed, and pulled a face which Niles couldn't describe as "concerned", but rather "concerning".

"Well, I can't make you go for it, but there is one thing I might be able to recommend."

"What is it?" Niles asked, now both worried and irritated in equal measure.

"Therapy," the doctor answered. "I'm no expert, but it seems to me like this voice is symptomatic of some deeper issue, and I do know a psychiatrist who might be able to help you explore that."

Therapy? _Really?_ He'd never needed this kind of treatment a day in his life, and it had just come upon him all of a sudden? Well, he supposed that could happen to anybody, but other than the voices he didn't feel any different! Maybe no one else did, either. But all the people who'd gone felt like they needed to, and he didn't feel like he needed to...

"You don't have to say yes if you don't want to, Mr Brightmore," the doctor took up a pen and wrote something down on a card. "Just take this number, and if you feel like you want to explore this possibility, then call this number and book an appointment."

He offered the card to Niles.

He took it out of politeness, but he wasn't planning on calling. He wasn't insane - he couldn't be! The only unstable people in the house were Miss Babcock and, to a lesser extent, Miss Grace. He was sane. There had to be a logical reason as to why he was hearing voices. He was thankful for Maxwell having decided to wait for him outside - had he been in the room, he'd probably insisted that he go.

"Thank you for your time, Dr Madison," said the butler, giving the medical professional a forced smile. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Just take it easy," said Madison as Niles opened the door to his office, "Try to rest and take a painkiller if you need to. You will be alright."

Niles hoped so.

He really hoped so.

Having to live constantly hearing Miss Babcock's voice would be like being doomed. Speaking of which, he'd just realised that he hadn't heard her voice once since they had left the house. Not once, since they'd gotten to the living room, and all the way to the hospital. No intrusive thoughts whatsoever - especially not ones that came sounding like the producer. Maybe there was something to that...

The drive back would be a test of this new theory springing very quickly to his mind.

Maxwell got up from the seat he'd been waiting in upon spotting his butler.

"Everything alright, Old Man?" he asked, now only worried and not angry anymore. "What did the doctor say?"

Niles felt the card burning a hole in his pocket, but ignored it.

"No lasting damage," he replied. "Just bruising. Everything should be fine and return to normal eventually."

God, he hoped everything returned to normal eventually - especially if his theory was correct. He didn't know if he'd be able to stand it.

Maxwell leaned in, lowering his voice as though what he had to say was of the gravest nature, "And the, uh...the..."

"The voice, sir?" Niles asked, not entirely appreciating his clumsy attempt at being delicate.

"Yes, that's it."

"A mere side effect of being a bit dazed," Niles answered. He was surprised he was making this lie sound so effortless. "It hasn't happened since we've been out, so I'm assuming I've recovered from that part already. The doctor thinks so, too."

He had to add that part, before Maxwell insisted on knowing what Dr Madison thought. The story had to add up. Not that Maxwell seemed entirely convinced by what he was saying, but it wasn't like he could argue against what a medical professional had supposedly said. Niles knew he'd have to try and keep everything that had to do with this voice to himself, and with time his boss would forget about it, as he always did.

"Very well," said the British producer, a hint of uncertainty about his entire demeanour, "We should go home. You can take the today and tomorrow off, if you want. I'll buy take out on our way home."

Well... they say every cloud has its silver lining! His injury had at least come with something good.

Although the way home was silent, Niles was painfully aware of the strange looks Maxwell was giving him, but he pretended not to notice. He didn't really want to talk about what had happened, much less with someone who believed him to be slightly unstable. Heck, it was almost as if the man were expecting him to have a full-blown breakdown on the spot!

They made a stop at McDonald's before returning to the mansion, and Niles began to feel hopeful that this strange situation had come to an end, but as soon as he opened the kitchen door, the strange buzzing sound was back in his ears.

No... it wasn't a buzz.

It almost sounded like... a muffled voice.

And it was getting closer. The door to the dining room was swinging open as he opened the door to go inside!

 _"_ _God, what took them so long?! I feel like I've been on my own here forever!"_

The last part was the loudest, as Miss Babcock pushed her way through into the kitchen. She gave a faint smile up at them - well, at Maxwell, anyway. Niles, she ignored as he went to sit at the kitchen table, listening out for everything his mind said he could apparently hear.

Not that she was aware of that fact.

"Hello, Maxwell," she said, not bothering to greet Niles. "I left the files on your desk - all of them are signed and dated, you just have to read them over once more to make sure they're correct."

 _"_ _Not that he needs to; of course they're correct," the voice said bitterly. "I did them just as I always do."_

He then felt almost as if C.C.'s thoughts veered (in a manner of speaking) in his direction. It was an incredibly odd feeling... as though there were an invisible entity in the room.

 _"_ _He looks miserable,"_ said the voice, and it was followed by a gleeful cackle, _"Fantastic."_

That definitely sounded like C.C. Babcock.

"So, Rubbermaid, what's the verdict?" she asked (this time loudly) as she wheeled herself to the fridge, "Have you lost your marbles?"

He merely glared at her as she attempted to manoeuvre her chair so that she could open the fridge. But to no avail.

 _"_ _For the love of God… even getting a damn soda is a pain in the ass!"_

That was it!

To Niles that was his opportunity to see, once and for all, if he had lost his mind or not. He didn't really know how he'd feel if he was proven to be correct, but at the same time he needed to know that he was not crazy.

"Move away, you graceless oaf!" he said, getting to his feet and making his way over to the fridge, "There is no more cake, and unfortunately for you, we've also run out of Pedigree. The only thing you'll find in there, is soda."

"That's what I..." she started off annoyed, but then looked up at him strangely. "That's what I wanted..."

And in that moment, Niles knew he was right. It hadn't been some kind of dream or impossible thought after all. He opened the fridge door for her, mind too far away to register whatever Maxwell said as he left the room after having gotten her the drink that she'd asked for.

No. Not asked for. _Thought about_.

Because, whether he liked it or not and for better or worse, he could now read the mind of C.C. Babcock.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter 2_**

Niles collapsed on his bed, giving a loud huff and not caring if it made his head hurt. The moments between shutting the fridge door and finding himself in his bedroom were a complete blur, and he simply couldn't bring himself to care. Honestly, having zoned out for a small lapse of time was the least of his problems at the moment. He could do with not thinking about anything for a while – God knows his head was bursting with troubled thoughts as it was.

His head; that was the entire cause of this whole thing. And now he had to figure out what to do about it.

Come to think of it, what was he going to do about it? Surely mind reading was only useful if it could be done to anyone and everyone? He could only see having Miss Babcock's thoughts in his mind whenever they were in close proximity as a hindrance at best and an annoyance at worst. What if it was like when they were down in the office, earlier? He couldn't be like that all the time - Maxwell would notice and insist he went back to the hospital for a second opinion!

But, something else in his head had another idea. A better idea. What if it wasn't going to be like earlier? Maybe he reacted so badly because his head hurt? And when his head stopped hurting, he wouldn't be so bothered? If that were the case, there were endless possibilities for this starting to spring into his mind. Hearing Miss Babcock develop a zinger before she said it? A brilliant way to prepare to launch a retort. Knowing her insecurities to create his own insults? She'd basically be giving him the perfect ammunition!

Maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all...

He couldn't help but smirk deviously as his mind was swarmed with new (and previously unthinkable) schemes and pranks that he could play on Miss Babcock. This was a golden opportunity! He had the took to always have the upper hand.

 _To win every single confrontation._

Well, maybe not all of them. Always being prepared to fend off her attacks might cause her to get suspicious, and he couldn't afford her to suspect he had practically unlimited access to her mind.

His smile widened - this was going to be fantastic!

He jolted upright on his bed, not caring about the intense pain in his head. Why not start now? She was there, after all, and he'd better learn how his new powers worked sooner rather than later. Niles glanced at the clock and smiles; he had to get downstairs. It was almost the time for Miss Babcock to look for her mid-morning cup of coffee, and he could be down there making it...

He'd take the day off another time. Right now, his butler duties were calling!

Leaving his bedroom, he hurried back downstairs. The more he thought about all of it, the less he thought about how much his head hurt, and that left room for more ideas about how to prank Babcock! But it was the first prank - the one he was going to use that day - which filled his mind the most. It was going to be a classic, he could feel it.

And he had perfect timing. She was wheeling herself into the kitchen just as he was coming down the stairs.

"So, that slam on the floor didn't do you too much damage?" she asked loudly. "Still have enough brain cells in that ancient skull of yours to remember what a dust mop's for?"

The corners of Niles' mouth turned upwards in a smirk.

"Well, if yours can still remember the most basic motor functions after so many centuries, I think one little fall won't do very much," he replied.

He was also very amused when she admitted defeat in her mind - she would have never said that to him, but now he got the satisfaction of hearing it if not from her lips, but from her very own thoughts.

Boy, if he'd known that all that took to read Miss Babcock's mind was a simple blow to his head, he would have purposely banged it against a hard surface years ago!

"Why are you here anyway?" she said, wheeling herself to the kitchen table, "I thought Maxwell gave you the day off."

He shrugged, already hearing her thoughts on wanting a cup of coffee, "I never said I was going back to work. I am here to get some coffee. Want some?"

 _"_ _What the hell...?"_ thought C.C., and Niles had to bite back a smug grin - he'd thrown her off balance. The first stage of his plan. _"The bastard has something in mind."_

Oh, of course he did!

Pity she couldn't read his mind like he could read hers...

But she was going to take the bait. He knew it before she'd said a thing. She was curious to know what he was going to do. Of course she was. That was how their game worked. They played the game because it was interesting, and they didn't back down because they thought something might happen. There was always the chance to win if they chose to take part.

So she smiled, "Alright. As long as you get the right pot - it's the one with the brown liquid in. Be careful, it'll be hot!"

She pointed mockingly at the pot, and Niles looked unimpressed.

"I didn't get amnesia from the fall, if that's the hilarious implication you're trying to make," he said, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard to bring them to the coffee pot.

He poured himself a cup, and set it to one side. He then poured one for her, and went to get the milk and sugar.

Well, it would be sugar for him.

For her, however, salt was in order.

It was a classic prank - not exactly one of his most creative ones, but it was funny nonetheless. Simple an effective. The key to a funny afternoon after having sustained an injury.

He prepared both cups quickly, and he even cut two slices of homemade carrot cake, all while listening to her thoughts. He could hear she was observing him; she was trying to catch him messing her drink.

 _"_ _The mug is clean, isn't it?"_ she thought as he stirred her drink, smiling to himself. " _I just saw him take it out of the cupboard... and he poured himself a cup from the same pot he poured mine… what's wrong then…?_ "

Oh, this was glorious!

It almost felt like a drug!

"Here you are, Babcock," he said, turning on his heels and making his way over to her. "A fresh cup of coffee."

It happened as he held it out to her. She realised what he'd done - the only other thing that was left.

 _"Salt!"_ her mind cried, completely and totally right. _"Throw it away!"_

But it was already too late. She was reaching out to take it, and whatever happened next, he had the upper hand purely from her thoughts. So when it looked like she was about to let the cup slip from her grasp to the floor, he pushed it more firmly into her hand. The result was glorious, as the cup tipped, fell, and launched its contents straight over the producer's lap! The liquid wasn't hot, but there was plenty of it and it was enough to soak her straight through. It was certainly more than enough to make her gasp in horror.

"You imbecile!" she cried out, examining her now most likely ruined clothes. "Look what you just did!"

In her head she was despairing over the clothes, and disgusted at how warm the coffee felt soaked into the fabric. Niles, meanwhile, was having something akin to a dance party in his. This, truly, was going to be a gift. He'd started small, but how much bigger could he go once he'd begun exploring the possibilities?

And there were thousands of them!

God, this really was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him! He could hear her screaming in her mind, calling him names and using a language that would put a sailor to shame, and he relished it. He relished every second spent witnessing the effects of his prank.

"You idiotic maid!" She screeched, glaring at him, "Why the hell did you drop the cup on me?!"

Niles affected a look of offence, "What?! I just gave you the cup! You didn't take it!"

"That's because there was salt in my coffee!" she snarled, rubbing her cast with one of her hands - he could hear her thoughts about her leg hurting.

"How would you know if you didn't even try it?" he replied, getting to his feet, "Besides, why would I do it? It only resulted in you making a mess, which, mind you, I will have to clean up!"

Secretly, he thought that every droplet of coffee that had fallen on the floor and that he'd have to clean up had been worth it. Anything to rile her up.

"I'll give you a dishcloth," he said, getting to his feet and "accidentally" bumping her cast with the side of his leg.

"Ow!" she yelled, clutching at her cast before turning her rage-filled stare straight back to him. "You did that on purpose!"

"Hm?" he looked up from fetching a cloth, and placed his hand over his chest as if to say _"Moi?"._ "What happened on purpose?"

"You know perfectly well what," Miss Babcock seethed. Her face was priceless, and now in her head she was devising all kinds of methods of torturing him.

If she used any of them, it would be seconds out, round two. Not that he'd let her know he knew.

He shrugged a little bit, shaking his head as he came over.

"I'm afraid I don't," he offered her the cloth. "Here. Try to make sure you actually take it this time."

Scowling, she snatched the cloth from him and began to dab ineffectively at herself. In her head, she was telling herself she didn't know why she was bothering - the suit was ruined. And it was all because of the stupid butler. The stupid butler who'd just one-upped her, Niles thought to himself smugly. She'd either have to pay a substantial amount of money to get the suit professionally cleaned, or an even larger amount of money to get it replaced.

God, victory tasted sweet. Much like an unsalted cup of coffee.

"What is going on here?!"

Niles turned towards the door, which Mister Sheffield had just crossed. He must have heard the commotion (which wasn't hard, considering the volume of Miss Babcock's screams) and come to see what was going on.

Niles didn't need to be able to read his mind to know what Maxwell was thinking - the expression on his face told him everything he needed to know.

The British producer looked between his butler and his business associate a couple of times and released a pain-filled sigh. He'd seen this before plenty of times. Too many times.

"Your stupid butler spilled coffee all over my suit!" protested Miss Babcock (actually her voice sounded more like a growl).

"Accidentally, sir!" Niles replied immediately, holding up his hands in a defensive expression of innocence.

Maxwell frowned, definitely annoyed. Niles knew he'd seen this too many times for it to actually be an accident. But he couldn't say for sure that it wasn't this time, could he? He was still looking back and forth between his employees, apparently making some kind of decision. And when his eyes eventually landed back on the butler, Niles knew the outcome wasn't good.

"Go into the downstairs powder room, C.C.; clean up what you can. Anything that doesn't come out will be paid for by me," the British producer eventually said, before looking Niles dead in the eyes. "And maybe someone around here would like to inform me whose paycheque the money will be coming from?"

In her head, Niles heard Miss Babcock let out a gleeful giggle. She was the only one who was giggling at that. It would take him an age to make up the money he'd be losing by having to pay for that suit. And, knowing Miss Babcock, she was going to make sure he spent every penny she could get him to cough up.

Well, he didn't even have to know her for that. She was busy thinking it.

The day had taken quite a turn for the better in her eyes, and he could hear all of her celebrations going on.

Terrific. Just terrific. He'd had this power for under a day, and it was causing him trouble already.

"I suppose I will be taking a pay cut for a while, sir?" he eventually asked, resigned.

"You can safely bet on that, Niles," Maxwell replied. "And I expect you to apologise to C.C. for causing this to happen."

Apologise to Miss...?

For some reason, there was a part of Niles that now wished he could stop hearing Miss Babcock's thoughts. The woman was practically having a party inside her mind. Ultimately, she'd won this round.

"That's right, Niles, I want my apology!" said Miss Babcock, smiling smugly up at him and relishing in her unlikely triumph.

But he refused to speak. He looked at Maxwell pleadingly, silently begging him not to compromise his pride any more, especially after his finances had suffered a blow. But he saw no mercy in his employer's eyes.

"Now, Niles," grumbled Maxwell, crossing his arms over his chest.

"But, sir..." Niles attempted to protest, but one look at Maxwell's eyes, he knew he meant it.

He decided not to push it. Not this time, at any rate.

He'd just have to get his own back, on some other occasion. Maybe when the Sheffields weren't home, and it was just him and Babcock in the house. He got away with all kinds of mischief in times like that.

For now, he had to admit defeat.

He turned towards his archenemy, gritted his teeth, and grumbled, "I'm...sorry, Miss Babcock."

"Louder please, Niles," Maxwell ordered. "So we can hear you properly."

"I'm sorry, Miss Babcock," Niles repeated loudly.

"Apology accepted, Niles," the blonde producer replied smugly. She was adding _"That's better"_ in her head, but she also knew not to push their employer too far.

Speaking of which, Maxwell sounded much more satisfied as he patted Niles on the back, "There. That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

It was. It was, and forever would be, a source of his humiliation.

But if he could use the next time to get one back on her, that would make them even.

As it was, however, he had to make tactical retreat and lie low until the next opportunity to prank Miss Babcock presented itself. There was no sense in continuing to fight a fight that was already lost.

The war, however, wasn't over.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter 3_**

C.C. Babcock found herself walking down Park Avenue at a brisk pace, her black Chanel pumps clacking against the sidewalk, which now lay buried underneath a crisp, white mantle of snow. In between the index and middle finger of her left hand, she held a Marlborough cigarette. In her right one, she carried a nearly empty cup of coffee with her name scribbled on its side. She'd had to repeat it twice to the teenage Starbucks employee.

Little puffs of smoke rose into the air as she took draws of her cigarette. She'd already smoked half of it, so she lightly tapped the filter with her thumb and flicked off the ash on the tip, letting it fall to the ground.

A mouthful of coffee followed.

The intake of caffeine and nicotine during these early hours was an almost sacred daily ritual for C.C.. It consisted in taking pleasantly long draws of nicotine-filled smoke between gulps of strong, black coffee. Smoking her first cigarette of the day was the part she enjoyed the most. There were no words to describe the pleasure she felt whenever her lungs were wrapped by the addictive, warm smoke. Maybe the very particularity of this very first cigarette, was that she smoked it not as a way to relieve stress, but rather for the pleasure of it. It was the only cigarette that she smoked unhurriedly. The only one she truly and really enjoyed.

It brought a twisted relief of sorts – a peacefulness that allowed her to harbour the hope of a tranquil day at work.

Needless to say, given her line of work, that hope was, more often than not, short lived.

Especially when going to work entailed having to see and be in the same space as Niles.

She hadn't been able to stop thinking about what had happened that day, back when she'd been confined to that damn contraption. It was so weird, how he'd thought exactly what she was after in the fridge that day. And then later, with the coffee, it was...almost like he knew she'd throw it on the floor because of the salt!

But that was ridiculous. How could he know, really? He could guess because they knew each other so well - better than she really cared to admit - but that was all. He might have been a servant, but even he was capable of educated guesses.

That was all it was. A guess. And then she'd gotten her own back, and that had been great.

The best part of the day, really.

Maybe she could further her lead that day, too. She was nearing the mansion, and apart from getting work done after her first coffee and cigarette, there was nothing to perk up the day quite like making the butler suffer. And that's exactly what she was hoping to do. The way Maxwell had put him down and made him apologise still made her smile to herself.

The happy thought of a repeat floated around in her mind as she made her way up the steps to the house, and rang the doorbell. Another thing that was making her smile to herself, however, were the memories from the previous night. If there was one good thing about her having gone out with Nanny Fine, was having met Chandler Graves.

The man was truly wonderful!

He was a gentleman, funny, smart, incredibly intelligent and he had a more than impressive surname and bank account. They had discovered he and Stewart had worked together a few years ago. It was a match made in heaven! He'd invited her to Masa, New York's best and most expensive restaurant, and then... well... she'd reciprocated by inviting him over to her apartment for a nightcap.

Surprisingly enough (but not unpleasant in the slightest), despite his enchanting and manly demeanour – the macho air about him – he truly had a penchant for her being in control of (and leading during) their lovemaking.

She smiled at that.

God, how she loved to be in charge! And he loved to be… _beneath her_ , she thought, smiling roguishly.

She was suddenly startled out of her spicy memories by the door being practically yanked open.

"Hello, hello, Niles," she greeted the man who'd opened the door, sweeping past him into the hallway and removing her bag and coat. All the while, she kept in her mind thoughts about the previous night - how they'd laughed, and drank, and had more fun than was probably even legal-

But they were interrupted by the loud slamming of the front door, causing her to start.

She finished taking her coat off as she turned to face the direction of the noise. The butler was still there, having turned away from the front door to glare at her.

It was obvious he'd slammed it, too. But why? It was far less playful than their usual banter. What had she done already to earn this kind of treatment?

Her brow creased, confused, "What's the matter, Hazel? Somebody hid your scrub brush this morning?"

He approached her in a menacing fashion, eyes burning with anger.

"I think you know," he said, before stalking off towards the kitchen.

Now, just what the hell was that supposed to mean?

Was he in an awful mood because of the pay cut? After all Maxwell had given him his check yesterday, and there was a substantial amount of money missing. She'd made sure that it was that way. And, although unlikely and a little bit over the top, that could be a reason for his anger. He was frugal and usually fussed about losing money, but she'd never seen such a strong negative reaction from him.

Was he mad at her for some other reason?

Given their daily bickering, it was hard to pin point the reason why he was so angry at her. Well... she supposed she had to let him be. It wasn't like she cared, really...

She had a long day at work before her; she couldn't lose time pondering over Niles' mood.

With that in mind, she made her way to the dining room, her stomach growling with hunger. She could eat a horse! The only thing she couldn't have, however, was anything with chocolate sauce on it. She and Chandler had... made good use of the chocolate sauce tub she'd had in her fridge yesterday, and the thought of having any more chocolate made her sick to her stomach.

She greeted the other members of the family as she came in, and took her usual seat to wait for her breakfast. Niles had gone through into the kitchen, obviously to fetch her plate. He was gone a few minutes and that irritated her a little, considering the fact that all the Sheffields and Nanny Fine were busy digging into their waffles right in front of her.

But soon he returned, bringing her breakfast. She craned her neck a little to take a look...

And her heart sank as he slid the plate onto the table, straight in front of her.

Her waffle was absolutely covered in chocolate sauce!

Her face fell. She couldn't eat it. She was starving and she was stuck with food she couldn't eat!

He was on his way back to the kitchen already, not even waiting for any kind of reaction. Well, obviously he wouldn't have any kind of reaction - he didn't know. But he had to stick around to do something about it!

"Niles, I can't eat this!" she called after him.

He froze, and turned, apparently confused.

"Why ever not, Miss Babcock?" he asked, something about his words sounding clipped. "Did something happen to put you off chocolate sauce? An _excess_ of it, perhaps?"

Involuntarily, C.C. flushed red, memories of the previous night popping into her mind. She couldn't possibly tell the family about what had transpired last night! But she had to find a decent way to justify her desire for a waffle without anything resembling chocolate on top of it.

"My... uh... stomach is unwell-"

"Did you eat too many innocent victims last night?" the butler (who, again, sounded somewhat clipped) made his way over and swiftly removed the plate from in front of her.

For a second, they both stared into each other's eyes, and C.C. realised there was something incredibly off about him. It was as if he were extremely angry, and she couldn't understand why.

"I cannot imagine how terrifying it must be for your preys to find themselves being pinned down by your big claws," he added, spite dripping from his every word.

"Niles!" Maxwell cried out, clearly appalled by his servant's behaviour. "How rude could you possibly be in one morning, Old Man? If C.C. doesn't want the chocolate sauce, she doesn't have to have it!"

Niles' eyes left her, and went to his boss. He was still seething.

"Doesn't have to have it, does she?" he asked, barely keeping his rage at bay. "As long as that's what you think, sir."

He then marched himself and the plate full of waffle into the kitchen. Had the door not been on a swinging hinge it would have slammed.

Everyone's eyes followed him, some filled with more concern than others.

"What's gotten into him this morning?" Fran asked from across the table, nursing her cup of coffee.

Maxwell sighed, casting his eyes back to his paper, "Who knows? He's been acting strange ever since he hit his head, those weeks ago. I think he might need another opinion, from a different doctor."

Yeah, maybe the butler wasn't as well as he kept on claiming. Stuff like this just seemed to prove it. Maxwell was probably right. That was the only explanation for all the weird crap going on around Niles.

He didn't come back out with another waffle, at any rate. Maxwell was going to go in and tell him to bring something out, but as nice as that would have been, it was cutting very close to their work time. So, promising her employer that she'd make sure to eat something that day, she finished downing the coffee which had been set out ready for her when she'd come in and set off for the office.

Chandler had said he'd come pick her up and take her to lunch, anyway. She'd make up for her lack of a breakfast at the restaurant. And she'd spend it in much better male company than the ghoul who kept coming in to haunt the room every once in a while, once they'd settled down to work.

It was almost like he was restless, or anxious, as well as angry.

Not that she cared or anything. There was plenty to do before she got to leave for a little while. And that time wouldn't go quick...

Especially when she had to go over at least twenty contracts. The new play she and Maxwell were working on was making her sick with worry, and she had spent too many sleepless nights fine-tuning details. She couldn't wait until all this was over; they were only three weeks away from the opening night.

The end was in sight.

Had she not been so immersed in her job, she would have noticed the many dirty looks Niles was giving her. He had brought Maxwell some tea and biscuits, but he'd never offered anything to Miss Babcock. He couldn't stand being civil to her.

And, unbeknownst to her, he was already planning his revenge.

"All right, I am done for the morning," C.C. announced when she eventually finished reading (and revising) the last contract. She looked down at her wristwatch - 11:58 a.m.. Chandler would be there any moment from then.

"Will this lunch of yours last for long?" asked Maxwell, looking up from his work.

"I don't know, Maxwell. But I'll probably be back by three, I believe," C.C. said, getting to her feet. She needed to go to the powder room and do a quick makeup touch-up. She nearly darted out of the room, purse in hand and open lipstick in the other, but when her right heel made contact with the hallway floor outside the office, it gave way beneath her and she felt face down to the floor. The _newly_ _waxed floor_ , at that.

She'd gone down with a shout of surprise and landed with a painful thud, but it was mostly just the shock that made her feel it. She was already getting to her feet by the time Niles came out of the office, sauntering past like nothing was wrong.

"Careful, Miss Babcock; the floor is slippery," he said, briefly turning to eye her up and down.

For some reason he smirked, too, before walking off. Well, of course he did - he'd waxed the floor that much on purpose! Growling under her breath, C.C. began to dust herself off. Luckily the wax hadn't smeared onto her pants, and her shirt hadn't been anywhere near the floor...

But...

 _Oh God._

Her lipstick! It had been pressed right into her shirt!

Her immediate reaction was to try and wipe it out, but that only spread the stain, like blood after a wound. It was too near the middle of the blouse to be hidden by a jacket. Oh, who was she kidding? Even if she did hide it, it still wouldn't come out in laundry! It would be ruined!

The butler. _He'd_ done this!

But it was too late to get any kind of quick revenge. The doorbell had just rung, and it was obvious who'd be waiting on the other side.

C.C. felt like a deer caught in the headlights, and panic wrapped itself around her like a vine - what should she do?! They couldn't go out for lunch when she looked like this! She needed to change! Maybe Nanny Fine could provide her with a suitable replacement...

Oh, who was she kidding?!

"Looks like the dog walker is here," Niles said in a sing song voice as he made a bee line for the door, almost as if he were eager for Chandler to see her like this.

"Don't you dare open that do-"

The door was open before C.C. had finished her sentence, and Chandler's eyes found her almost immediately. She found herself wishing the Earth would swallow her whole as Chandler's eyes widened slightly.

God, the butler was _so_ dead…

"Chandler!" C.C. wheezed, not being able to move from where she was, but realising she had to say something to her boyfriend, "I... I..."

"What happened to you, Doll?" he asked, obviously concerned. He went to her, actually, and wound his arm around her waist.

"I... I fell," she said, "The floor... it was slippery and I fell on my open lipstick..."

"Oh, no matter!" said the man cheerfully, "I guess we'll make a quick stop at 5th Avenue before going for lunch. I'll take you shopping."

She didn't know if it was the promise in those words or the look on Niles' face at Chandler making them, but C.C. suddenly didn't care at all about the stain, or the mark said stain had caused on her shirt by waxing the floor.

She was far too happy for that.

Chandler went to the closet, fetched her coat and her bag, and handed her the bag while he put her coat around her shoulders.

"They'll hold our reservation while we get you sorted," he said, guiding her to the door.

"Okay," she replied, starting to grin. She specifically aimed it at the butler they were currently walking past, letting him know quite clearly that his plan had failed.

God, victory was sweet.

She managed one cheeky wave and a smirk as she and Chandler stepped through the front door.

"Have fun waxing the floor, Niles!"

The only answer she got from him, was the door being slammed behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 _"_ _Have fun waxing the floor, Niles_ ," the butler said in a mocking (and condescending) voice. He kept looking at the couple through the door, rage burning in his heart, though I wasn't long until he'd turned on his heel and stalked back to his room, not caring about his still incomplete chores.

That Chandler...he didn't care how rich the man was, or the fact that he was just a servant in comparison, he thought he might deck the man the next time he saw him! He kicked some laundry on his floor that he hadn't picked up as he paced around the room.

" _"I'll take you shopping"_ ," he mimicked some more, at last bending over to snatch up the clothes but only succeeding in throwing them across the room.

The man was infuriating! All over Miss Babcock when he got to the house, and no respite from it with the producer thinking about it all morning...! No wonder he'd dumped that chocolate sauce all over her ruined breakfast. He could hear her thoughts about it loud and clear and then, all of a sudden, he couldn't stand to look at it anymore. And if it would shut up...those _thoughts_ , then dumping it all over her waffle killed two birds with one stone, didn't it?

He could still hear her thoughts now. Every touch she'd giggled to herself about, and all the things she still wanted to do. All of them made him cringe.

They made him sick. No. _He_ made him sick!

He wished Chandler would just disappear!

He slumped on his bed, feeling defeated. But why did he feel defeated? Why did he care so much about what she was doing with her life? She was his nemesis - the bane of his existence! Why did her going out with Chandler upset him so?

He released a rage-filled sigh, rubbing his eyes. This new power was supposed to be a weapon against Miss Babcock - an instrument of torture - and yet, more often than not, he'd been the one on the losing end. Her thoughts were almost painful to him, and he couldn't understand the reason why.

Just when Niles thought that maybe fate would be kind enough to let Earth swallow him whole, there was a knock on the door - actually, several inconvenient knocks. Judging by them not being accompanied by an annoying nasal voice demanding to be let in, he could only assume it was Maxwell and not Miss Fine behind the door.

"Niles?"

Yes, just as he'd suspected. It was Maxwell.

This was just his bloody luck…

"Old Man, open the door..."

Sighing, he got up again to go to the door. Not that he wanted to, he just knew if he didn't let Maxwell in the producer would go and get Miss Fine. And as much as he liked Fran, that was the last thing he needed right now. Not that he needed his boss's bad mood, but what could he do?

Maxwell's split-second look of annoyance disappeared when he saw Niles' face properly, though.

"Is everything alright, Old Man?" he asked. "I heard the front door slam, and I got up to see what was the matter..."

"Everything's fine, sir," he replied lamely. He was aware of how bad it sounded as a lie, but he was also hoping Maxwell might not notice. "But if you don't mind, I would like to have the rest of the day off. I will work twice as hard tomorrow to make up for it."

He tried to close the door again, but Maxwell put his foot in the way.

"Hang on a minute, Niles," the producer said. "You never offer to work twice as hard to make up for anything! Not everything is fine, is it?"

 _Damn_. He thought he might be able to slip that one past his employer, but clearly not.

And his silence was apparently concerning Maxwell, because the producer folded his arms, ducking a little to try and meet the butler's gaze (which was currently directed at the floor).

"It's something to do with C.C. and her new beau, isn't it?"

"No!" replied Niles, perhaps a little too forcefully. He knew almost as soon as he'd spoken that Mr Sheffield would see through his lies. The man was daft and clueless most of the times, but he was also his oldest friend. They knew one another better than the back of their hands.

The butler fidgeted, anxious to put an end to this uncomfortable conversation (although he held very little hope of that happening). He still couldn't bring himself to look at Maxwell in the eye.

"I mean..." Niles spoke again, "I couldn't care less about what Miss Babco-"

"Niles," Maxwell cut across him, "I know you, Old Man. It _has_ to do with C.C., doesn't it?"

There was a brief silence. Niles sighed, trying to compose himself.

"It doesn't matter sir," he said, "She can do whatever she wants with her new _boyfriend_."

He almost spat the words, like they tasted bitter in his mouth, but to Maxwell they were all the information he needed.

"Oh my God, Niles..." he said in an awed (if slightly amused) tone, "You have feelings for Miss Babcock!"

"No!" Niles cried out again, desperate to just slam the door, huddle under the covers of his bed and never come out again as long as the words "Miss Babcock" or "Chandler" existed in the same sentence. But that wasn't going to happen. "No, I..."

The protest was futile, wasn't it? He was breaking apart right then and there, and anybody who actually didn't give a toss wouldn't be acting like this. His face fell with another sigh, and he covered his hurt and embarrassed expression with his hands.

"Oh, God...it's no use! I'm that obvious, aren't I?" he said, feeling his face growing heated. "Yes, yes I do!"

He felt a hand being placed delicately on his shoulder.

"It's alright, Old Man! It's alright," he'd never heard Maxwell sound so caring about something like this, even if he was wrong and nothing was alright. "We can find a way around this!"

Niles supposed that was the nicest thing Maxwell could think to say, considering Miss Babcock was with Chandler and showed no signs of stopping. There was no way around it, was there? But it was also of no use, and not cheering Niles up any.

"What can we do about it?" he lifted his head from his hands to look at his employer. "There's nothing to be done! She's chosen him, and we all know she'd never consider me..."

It looked like Maxwell was biting the inside of his lip at that. He had to admit, it was a good point. A moment of silence passed, and then he leaned in the doorway. It might have been a clever tactic to stop the butler from slamming the door.

"Well...we can think of something, Old Man!" he sounded so reassuring. "We know C.C., we see her every day - we can monitor how things are going between them!"

 _Keep an eye on them?_ That wasn't enough, and the face Niles was pulling gave that away.

But Maxwell wasn't done. He pointed a finger at his servant quickly.

"And, in the meantime, you could perhaps stand to be a little nicer to her. Alright?"

 _Be nice to...?_

Was... was he _serious_?

Good Lord - he was! There was no indication of a joke of any kind on his expression whatsoever, and he was even smiling a bit (smiling encouragingly, at that)! No. He wasn't planning on being nice to Babcock - that was just not who they were. That was not who _he_ was.

He'd harboured feelings for Miss Babcock for longer than he cared to admit, but that didn't mean he was going to make them known. She'd laugh at him! There was no chance whatsoever that a woman like her would pay attention to a man - a servant - like him. The status quo had to be maintained: he and Babcock hating (and pranking) one another. Women of her ilk married into their own caste; they only engaged with servants like himself when they desired to have some torrid liaison, nothing else.

No, the only way to get her to give him a minute of her time - to get her to see him as her equal - was by outsmarting her in their perennial feud. That's why his newfound powers had (initially) been a blessing. It was a God-given guarantee that he would always have the upper hand.

Miss Babcock's relationship had thrown a spanner in the works, and now his power was nothing but a nightmare.

Of course, he could just continue to use his power to channel his own anger on the matter. But what good would that do, in the end? The more he drove her insane with his tricks the more she'd be driven into Chandler's arms and the more he'd have to hear about it the next day. It would make him even more hurt and angry (with a potential side-effect of mental scarring). He'd prank her again, and it would be a vicious cycle, for as long as they both worked in the same house.

Well, if it ain't broke...

But what was he going to tell Maxwell? His employer wanted him to cheer up, and he didn't really want to let him down. None of this had been his fault and he was trying his hardest to come up with a good - reasonable and practical - solution.

So he nodded, "Alright, sir... I'll try to be…" he felt himself cringe at what he was about to say, "… nice to Miss Babcock."

He didn't really mean it, but if it meant Maxwell was satisfied then it didn't matter. Anything so he could close his door and lie down on his bed to get some peace.

Maxwell frowned; his butler didn't sound okay - it didn't sound like he was planning on doing anything that he'd suggested. For years he'd put up with Niles and C.C.'s bizarre relationship - he'd long since accepted that those two needed and depended on their ongoing war. His butler's feelings for Miss Babcock, however, represented a disturbance in the natural order. He knew the extents to which men in love were willing to get if it meant obtaining their beloved's attention, but would that be Niles's case? He seemed unsure - like the mere prospect of making a move was terrifying to the butler.

Should he intervene?

He knew them well enough to try and do something...

No - one look at his old friend was enough for him to realise that insisting on the topic would be detrimental. Niles needed space, and to figure this out on his own. However, if he didn't… _wise up…_ he could see about enlisting Fran's help on the matter. She'd certainly know what to do to help those two.

But for now, he could be a good sport and give his butler some peace. He looked like a lovelorn puppy, which was very unlike Niles…

He nodded, and slightly awkwardly patted his friend's arm, "Okay, Old Man...I can see this has taken it out of you, so, um...why don't you take the rest of the day off? You still need to rest, I think, and we can get along for the rest of the day."

Niles peered at Maxwell. Was he really giving in? How could it be that easy?

Another part of him asked why he was questioning it. He was being given a chance to not have to listen to Babcock and the awful things going on in her head! He should take it while he was still being offered!

So he yawned some, and gave a wan smile, "If you think it best, sir."

"I do," said Maxwell, "Now, I'll take Miss Fine and the children out for lunch. You just relax."

He turned on his heel, not giving his friend any time whatsoever to ask any more questions. He had, after all, a lot to discuss with Miss Fine.

* * *

"Maxwell, I am back!" C.C. called as she opened the door, giggling. All the wine she'd had during lunch was starting to get to her, and Chandler's intoxicating cologne wasn't making it easy for her to concentrate.

The couple tottered into the house, hand in hand. They were surprised by how quiet it was -silence was as foreign to the Sheffield mansion as poverty was to C.C.. They looked around, Chandler's arms moving to wreathe C.C.'s waist - he just loved how her new dressed fitted her natural curvaceous body.

"Maxwell? Nanny Fine?" C.C. called again, peering over in the direction of the study.

It looks like we are alone, doll," said Chandler, pulling her to him and planting a kiss on her nape.

She grinned in return. He knew just how to treat a woman, in every sense of the word! And that treatment deserves a little something given back. Seeing as they did seem to be alone, after all. And her work was all done...

"Well then," she purred, caressing his arms. "I suggest that you and I make the most of the free time and space."

Chandler brushed his lips up and down her neck, "What did you have in mind?"

Pulling herself free from his arms, she took him by the hand and led him into the office. She'd had thoughts and fantasies about it before, but she never imagined she'd ever get to try it! There was always someone around to interfere.

That specific someone had just woken up from a nap when they'd come in, and was regretting every step he took that brought him closer to them.

He could hear _everything_.

It was only made worse by the atrocities going on in her head. At least most people only got the physical noises; he got the wishes, the longings, and things that she wanted done before they were done to her, as well!

And apparently, they were done magnificently.

It made Niles feel sick, and he wondered if the nap he'd just woken from would be the last time he'd ever sleep. How could he sleep again, knowing what he did and hearing it all?

He hated himself. He hated the power he had.

And most of all, he hated Chandler Graves.

He wished it was him, in there, doing things to and with Miss Babcock that made her think as she was currently (her mind was a mess; nothing coherent at all). He had to make it happen. He couldn't stand this anymore!

He loved her - yes, he had to admit it, he loved her - and he was going to use his power to win her over. He didn't know exactly how he was going to do it, but he had a faint idea of what he could do - a first draft of his plan, if you will. For one thing, he was going to change how he behaved around her (though he would never admit to himself he was actually following Maxwell's advice), and pranks would turn into favours. He wasn't going to stop bickering with her (that just wasn't them) but his zingers could be... _flirtatious_. He could fit shameless innuendos in conversation; be proactive!

He'd grown tired of waiting. Of longing. Of hopelessly pining after her, like a stray dog looking for a loving owner.

He had to act.

But speaking of acting (or rather, of people doing "the act") he couldn't stand the racket downstairs - he couldn't bear hearing it any more. So, for now, he had to make tactical retreat, before any-

 _"_ _Oh, Chandler!"_

... yes, he really needed to get out of there.

Especially seeing as what he'd just heard was a real scream. Not a thought one. It was an awfully loud, real and clear scream.

He hurried as fast as he could to get as far away as he could, until he ended up leaving the house to go and run some errands in the city. He couldn't hear anything out there.

He was sure the...sounds...that he'd heard, and the images his mind had conjured up to go with them, would stay with him for far longer than was healthy. But the city was a distraction - the things he could see and hear, and the fact that he needed to concentrate, meant he ended up not thinking about them. Not all of it, at least. Miss Babcock was still on his mind as he wandered past the stores, thinking of all the things he'd get for her if he overheard her thinking that she wanted them. This power was going to be so useful for her birthday...

But that was a while away yet. And he had to get back to the house eventually.

For now, however, he had to think his next move.

Game on.

* * *

 **AN: Sorry for the hiatus! The holidays and my trip to the UK (to visit TheCrownedLioness, of course) sort of... delayed things. Anyway, we hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you for your reviews, we love to get your thoughts.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The house was quiet when Niles arrived. Well… except for Miss Babcock's thoughts – he could hear them clearly, coming from the office; they seemed to have gone back to normal, too. Yes, she appeared to be thinking about a contract that she was probably reading.

She was alone. Chandler must have gone.

Good. He could start working whatever magic he had.

He made his way straight to the office, and found her on the green love-seat - just as he'd imagined, she was reading a file, reclining comfortably and smiling to herself.

"You certainly look rather happy, Miss Babcock," he commented, trying hard to not grit his teeth as he pretended to straighten up the room. "Can I get you anything? Some tea, perhaps?"

That caught her attention – actually, his sudden appearance startled her. Her eyes soon went to him over the top of the file.

 _"What is he doing?"_ she was asking to herself. _"Does he want something?"_

He did. But she wasn't to know that yet.

 _"Well, it doesn't matter anyway,"_ she laughed to herself. _"Not in the mood for_ tea..."

"No thank you, Niles," she answered aloud. "I am currently satisfied."

Niles' eyebrow raised automatically. 'Currently satisfied' indeed!

"Very well then," he said, heading for the door. "But please let me know if you find yourself in need of more than just satisfaction; I'm sure I can provide you with something that will warm you perfectly inside."

Something akin to a wordless, voiceless scream told him his work for the moment was done. He'd never heard anything quite like it, and he stepped to one side of the door, out of her line of vision if she stood up and looked out, so that he could hear what she was thinking.

 _"Did...did he mean it like that?"_

He bit back a grin. Of course he meant it - well, would mean it if he actually had the opportunity to offer. For the moment, it was simply to see her reaction.

 _"He can't have done, I'm just reading too much into it. That's all. Nothing else."_

She sounded so much like she was trying to deny it to herself...

Did she...no, she couldn't. She was just surprised that he could make such a comment, and it had thrown her. That was all. But it was proof positive that this tactic could work! He had affected her when otherwise he might not have known! His trial run had been a success, and now it was obvious he had to continue! God knows that there were thousands of ideas jumping, bobbing and popping in his head. He was going to play his cards right, and see where it led him.

For now, however, he had things to do - namely planning dinner. A very special dinner.

Ah, the joys of scheming!

* * *

C.C. was tired.

Scratch that, she was exhausted! Her more than enjoyable day had wound down to a horribly boring evening. Maxwell had returned from lunch in a terrible mood – he'd found out Andrew Lloyd Webber had just rented the 49th Street theatre and was putting up a new show, which was exactly what Maxwell had wanted to do. She'd known even before Maxwell had said it that he wanted her to stay working late. They had to set up a new show, and it _had to be better than Webber's!_

She'd agreed, but she didn't really know why. It wasn't like Maxwell was staying to help - he and Nanny Fine had decided to take the children out for dinner… again. Probably so that Maxwell would calm down and think about something else after the whole Lloyd Webber business.

No, it was just her and the butler.

The butler who had been oddly helpful for the whole of the afternoon, and evening. He hadn't disturbed her, and was busy preparing dinner for her whilst she continued to work. Every part of her sensed a scam. But she couldn't prove it, and that drove something in her crazy.

He had no motive for making innuendo like he had earlier, and yet...

She shrugged it off with a sigh, and got back to work. It had to be her imagination. Nothing was going on. Not with Niles.

She was re-reading the latest file for what felt like the twelfth time when she heard him enter the room, wheeling in the serving cart. She felt her stomach rumble, and she put her work down, craning her neck a little to see what he'd made. It smelled delicious, whatever it was!

"Here we are, Miss Babcock," the butler announced, manoeuvring the cart in front of her. "Toad in the hole."

Toad in the hole. Vegetables, gravy, and... rather large sausages, sticking out of Yorkshire puddings, steam rising off them...

She stared at it for a long time, unsure of what to say.

"Um..." was all that came out, and her hand went to her collar, tugging at it. Why was it getting so warm in the room?

"What's the matter, Miss Babcock?" Niles asked, apparently concerned. "Aren't you in the mood for a bit of my sausage?"

C.C. wasn't eating anything right then, but that didn't stop her from somehow choking, and starting off a spluttering coughing fit. He...he couldn't be saying what she thought he was saying! He just couldn't be! She had to recover, before he asked her why she was behaving like this! So, she took in a few deep breaths, slowed it down so that the coughing would stop, and calmed herself.

"I, um...I'm fine, thank you, Niles," she replied, giving one last cough before turning her eyes down towards her meal. "I am in the mood for...a good meal, and this looks delicious."

She had to make sure none of it sounded suggestive. She could already feel a blush creeping up her face, and that was the last thing she needed when he could see her! She quickly grabbed her fork and began to dig into the vegetables. She felt odd about going for anywhere else while he was still in the room.

"Can I get you anything else, Miss Babcock?" Niles asked. "Some wine, perhaps? When serving sausage like this, I often find a nice smooth red makes it easy swallowing."

Miss Babcock made a strange (and slightly worrying) choking noise. The shock of his words had resulted in her swallowing too quickly, and the bite of potato she'd been chewing on had lodged itself in her airway. She tried coughing, thumping her fist against her chest in an attempt to dislodge it, but to no avail. She could feel the panic building, and she looked at Niles, pleadingly - almost desperately - hoping that he'd help her.

He realised what was going on in the fraction of a second, and his own airway closed up due to the panic. Of course this had to happen during her first real attempt to woo Babcock...

That was just his own damn luck!

"Miss Babcock! Let me help you..." he cried, wrapping an arm around her back and pulling her up.

It was lucky that he'd taken a first aid course, and he knew how to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre. After a few tense minutes, C.C. managed to cough out the treacherous piece of potato. He released her after that, and, gasping for air, C.C. collapsed back into her seat. She took a few seconds to recover, and once her breath was back she looked up at him.

He'd saved her...granted it was his words that had made it happen, but that wasn't his fault, really! He'd saved her life!

And she was grateful.

"I...um...thank you, Niles."

"There's no need to thank, Miss Babcock," he replied. He looked almost...unsure of himself? "Are...are you feeling alright now? Would you like something to drink?"

She nodded, not feeling quite like she could look at him again, for some reason.

"No, Niles, thank you. I...um, just ate a little too quickly, that's all," she explained. "I'll be fine now, you don't have to stand there and watch."

She was really hoping he wouldn't stand there and watch. Another wrong word out of him, and she'd probably wake up in a hospital!

"Very well, then," he said, turning to leave. "If you need me, I'll be clearing up the kitchen. Yorkshire's are messy to make from scratch."

She watched him go. That was odd - there wasn't a double entendre out of him that time!

But she hadn't imagined it. He can't have been doing it on purpose, then.

No. Like she thought before, it was just her overactive imagination. That was all.

It was probably the fault of the... pleasant activities she'd engaged in after lunch. That was all. She had to control herself, for the love of God! She was a grown woman, she had to get her mind out of the gutter. Perhaps she should go home. It was late, she was tired, and she'd had a long day. Not to mention that tomorrow she had a lot to do, the first thing being getting her dress from the cleaner's. She was planning on using it the following week, when she accompanied Chandler to a business meeting – apparently, he wanted to introduce her to his circle of close friends, who also happened to be his associates. That thought made her smile; it had been years since she'd had a partner who actually wanted to introduce her to his friends. This was new, and it felt nice.

Maybe this was really going somewhere. Maybe, with time, she might even get to settle down with him and start a family. It was about time that she did that.

After eating a few more bites - Niles' cooking really was too good to do anything else - she pushed the cart away from her and began to gather her things. She was just about to get up to call the butler and tell him she was leaving, when he came through the door.

"How was your dinner, Miss Babcock?" he asked pleasantly, before noticing the cart and frowning at her still mostly full plate. "Oh. Did you not like it?"

This was starting to get weird. First the innuendos, which she'd let slide because it was probably her imagination. But now this - being polite, leaving her be so she could eat and do her work, asking how her meal was...

He was acting like a proper servant, and she didn't know how to handle that!

"I did, yes, thank you," she said, standing up. "But I have to get home, and I'm not feeling awfully hungry."

"Oh, would you like me to pack it up so you can take it home?" asked Niles. "I know dogs like scraps," he added with a playful smile.

C.C. smiled too - that was more like it!

Still, there was something odd about the way he was behaving. The zinger he'd thrown her way had been made without scorn, without hate or aim to hurt. He was just being playful, that was all...

"Careful with what you say, Dust Buster, or I'll fix you myself," she replied, smirking.

Niles arched an eyebrow at her, and placed his hands behind his back, "Usually I don't have any qualms about letting dogs play with balls; alas, having you handle mine in this context seems like a rather unpleasant prospect. Thus, I shall retire to finish packing up your meal."

And with that, he pushed the cart back to the kitchen, leaving a wide-eyed C.C. behind.

Had he just flirted with...? He can't have! She had to still be imagining things. She was tired, that was it; her long day was catching up with her. As if to prove a point, she yawned. Yeah, it was time to get home. Get to bed, and get some rest.

Once she had her food in hand, she'd be going.

She sat back down, bag now ready to go, and waited for Niles to come back with her bag. She was leaning on the back of the love-seat, eyes half-closed, by the time he did. And when he came in, he looked at her thoughtfully.

"You seem rather tired, Miss Babcock," he commented. "Driving safely might be an issue."

Oh, God. He wasn't going to suggest she stay at the mansion, was he? She didn't know if she could handle any more of his...behaviour, currently!

But before she could answer, he held out her bag to her.

"If you hold onto your bag and your food, but give me your keys, I can drive you home," he said. "It won't be any trouble."

C.C. felt her heart giving and uncomfortable jolt - why was he acting this way?! Why was he being so helpful and kind? This wasn't like them! Not at all! Was he planning a prank? Was he up to something? There was no indication of foul play from his part. The meal had truly been delicious, and he'd been helpful all day long...

Well, all day long after she'd returned from her date with Chandler! He'd been a bastard during the first part of the morning.

It just didn't make any sense.

But as it was, she really was tired, and being driven home sounded rather nice. Maybe she could trust him? Just this once? After all, if he tried something funny she'd get back at him, as usual.

"Uh... alright," she opened her purse and handed over her car keys to Niles, "I parked just around the corner."

Niles gave her a smile in return, "If you wait by the front door, I'll bring it here."

And so she did, all the while every alarm bell and warning sign she had going off in her head. None of it made sense, and yet she was still agreeing anyway? She had to have been desperately tired. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary when the car pulled up, either. Niles even leaned over in the driver's seat to open the passenger door for her!

The ride home was quiet, and uneventful. But that didn't stop C.C. from feeling nervous the entire way, wondering what he had planned. She kind of wished he'd just get on with it already; get the prank over and done with. But they pulled into her building's underground parking completely unscathed. She thought that was about to change, however, when Niles insisted on walking her to her front door.

"A gentleman never just drops a lady practically on the curb outside," he had said. "He escorts her safely to her destination."

So that was how she had endured a tense elevator ride, and then an almost endless walk up the hallway towards her front door, with a butler who might or might not have been planning something. She retrieved her house key from her coat pocket and quickly opened the door. He didn't follow her inside, and for a few moments they remained there, looking at one another, not knowing what to say.

C.C. felt like she couldn't take it anymore - she couldn't take this odd behaviour from Niles. How twisted was that, really? When had her normality become exchanging barbs and catty zingers with an insufferable butler? At which point had she come to expect his pranks?

"Well, Miss Babcock," began Niles, "I think I will retire now. Do have a good-"

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" she finally snapped, not being able to bear it any longer. "Why are you doing this?!"

Niles frowned, confused, "Doing what?"

She gestured at all of him, "This! The...different treatment, the nice meal, the driving me home, and not once trying to prank me through it! What the hell has gotten into you?!"

For a split second, she thought she saw something like hurt cross his face. It made her, for reasons even she didn't know, soften.

She shifted her feet and cleared her throat, "What I mean is...well, why are you acting so differently today? Is everything okay?"

Niles didn't look so hurt after that. He just gave her a small smile and shrugged.

"I had a change of heart. From what I've heard, they're rather common" he said. "And I happen to think that this one was long overdue."

Long overdue? What did that mean?

Was he saying that he wished he had been nicer to her before now?!

Before she could ask, he had given a small bow.

"Goodnight, Miss Babcock," he said, turning away to go back to the elevator.

She watched him leave, still not quite believing it all the way. After he'd disappeared down the corridor, she finally shut her door. But once she was inside, she didn't move - she stayed, leaning her back against it, thinking. Niles wanted to be friends? After all the time that had passed, he wanted them to be friends? Why the change of heart now?

She wasn't sure if she wanted to accept it. Their routine had been established, and this was upsetting the natural order, in a way. On the other hand, it could be nice to have a friendlier relationship with the butler...

What was she going to do?

Niles, meanwhile, felt rather pleased with himself. He hadn't expected quite so much shock on the producer's part, but he felt that her reaction was a step in the right direction. He had to think up his next step. It was all well and good flirting and making their zingers more friendly, but he had to step thinks up a notch if he expected to get anywhere.

Not that he was going to get anywhere, with that Chandler in the picture...

He still had to find some way of getting Chandler out of the picture!

Nothing too drastic, obviously. But he could find out if Miss Babcock disliked anything about the man, and play that up for all it was worth! If she disliked facial hair, he'd get the man to grow a beard, if she hated his cologne, he'd make sure Chandler wore it every day for a month.

There were many ways he could undermine the man. And God know he was going to succeed!

As the saying goes - all is fair in love and war.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Why did I even put on this dress," C.C. muttered irritably as she smoothed the creases on her black, knee-length, lace pencil dress. It fitted nicely, and it was fastened to her waist. She'd debated herself if she should add a belt before leaving home, but eventually she'd decided against it. She'd matched it with her black Chanel pumps and a beautiful diamond necklace that her father had gifted her for her twenty-first birthday. She had her hair fixed in an elegant French pleat (not one hair out of place) and her make-up was pristine - she was the image of a successful young woman.

But somehow it felt wrong.

She took her time to look at herself one last time on the bathroom mirror, knowing full well her boyfriend was expecting her outside.

Expecting her. Like he had any right to say how long she took in there.

Eventually, with a barely suppressed groan, she turned and headed out. She couldn't stay in there all day, no matter what she thought. They were expected at this lunch, after all.

Chandler gave her a grin as he spotted her coming out, and got to his feet.

"Everything okay there, doll?" he asked, straightening his jacket. "You ready to go?"

Ready as she'd ever be. She had no time to change, otherwise they'd be late.

"Yep," she replied, snatching up her purse while Chandler fetched their coats. "Where is this place we're going again?"

Chandler gave her a smile, and put her coat around her shoulders.

"Now, don't you worry about that, my sweet! It's going to be a surprise," he said, kissing her cheek. "I'll drive. We'll be there in no time - I can't wait for the others to see you!"

"See you". Not even "meet you"? He'd said that they were going to see business associates, but hadn't mentioned any names. Were they going to be bringing wives and girlfriends as well? Who even were these people? He'd refused to disclose any information about the meal, which had bothered her greatly. Come to think of it, as of late he was having many annoying attitudes towards her…

She didn't have time to question any of it aloud, before he had looped her arm through his and was heading for the door. She supposed she'd just have to find out.

The drive to their destination was boring and silent - perhaps she was feeling more on edge than usual, and maybe that was the reason why she could barely bear hearing Chandler boast about the many business deals he'd managed to close that week. Was he always so self-absorbed? If so, why hadn't she noticed?

She wasn't surprised when they eventually stopped at the doors of the Rockefeller Centre; they were probably going up to the Rainbow Room, one of the most expensive restaurants in the city, and its tables were highly coveted.

For Chandler Graves getting a table was, most probably, a piece of cake.

Not more so than for her, in any case - her own mother was, after all, a Rockefeller. The Babcock-Rockefeller union had been one of the most iconic weddings of the twentieth century, and B.B. Babcock loved to talk about how she was chosen bride of the year by many magazines. Had Chandler not been so annoyingly secretive about this meeting and had he listened to her when she spoke about her family, she would have surely been able to get them the best table in the restaurant! But of course, Chandler hadn't even thought about that, had he?

Come to think of it, did he even know she was part of the Rockefeller clan?

"We are going to the Rainbow Room," commented Chandler proudly as they walked into the building.

C.C. had to make an effort not to roll her eyes - thanks for pointing out the obvious, Sherlock.

"I imagined so - my mother, Barbara Rockefeller, used to celebrate her soirées here."

She thought she felt him trip over air, or maybe at least come to a very sudden halt. But she'd kept walking, so he had to, as well.

"You...you never told me your mother was a Rockefeller," he sounded like he was trying desperately hard to not let her know she'd caught him out.

But C.C. wasn't in the mood for playing. He was starting to annoy her, and she wanted to get to the lunch. There had to be more intelligent conversation there. And maybe it would settle down this irritation she currently felt for her boyfriend not listening to her.

"You never asked," she replied coolly, dropping him a look over her shoulder. "Come to think of it, you've never asked me about my family."

Chandler looked momentarily sheepish, but tried to cover it up with a charming smile.

"Well, I figured we'd have all the time in the world for that, doll!" he put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. "We have a lifetime ahead of us, to get to know each other in every way..."

He was uncomfortably close. And there was that word "doll" again! Couldn't he just once call her by her name? She'd appreciate not feeling...well, like an object all the time!

The sooner they got sat with their party, the better.

She supposed he was being particularly annoying today because he was nervous. Yeah, that had to be it - he was introducing her to his friends and, apparently, to one or two members of his family. She suspected it would either be his father or his godfather, the two men he admired more than anyone else. It was almost funny to see just how much he craved approval from them, and perhaps he was nervous about what they'd think of her.

He was a good man, she reminded herself, and her boyfriend. The man with whom she had a real possibility to get somewhere.

She had to swallow up her annoyance - she had to reassure him, right?

C.C. forced herself to smile, discretely pushing away from Chandler as they walked into the elevator, "Yes, Chandler, we have a lifetime. Anyway, who am I meeting today?"

Her question seemed to perk him up a little, "Oh, well, today you'll be meeting three of my associates, my uncle, my godfather and my father, Mr Graves Sr."

His uncle, his godfather, _and_ his father? Wow, this was going to be quite a meal!

No wonder he'd wanted her to look her best, and was so nervous about it all. He wanted her to make a good impression, so they'd like her and accept her into the family! With that thought brightening their mood, they waited for the elevator to reach their floor and made their way to the restaurant, not one more word of fuss leaving C.C.'s lips the entire way.

The maître d' personally showed them to their table when they arrived, and upon seeing it, C.C. immediately froze. There wasn't a single woman at the table. Each seat, apart from two, was filled by a man. And these men all turned to grin at the newcomers.

"Chandler, my boy!" cried one, who stood up. It must have been Chandler's father, the two looked so much alike. "You finally made it!"

Chandler reached out to grip a few proffered hands, before stepping back to pull C.C. forward, "We did, and I apologise for the wait, but I think you'll find it worth the wait, gentlemen. Might I introduce Chastity-Claire Babcock-Rockefeller?"

"Try saying that ten times fast!" came a voice from amongst the group, followed by laughter from some of the others.

C.C. flinched, but kept her smile in place nonetheless. Chandler must have sensed danger, for he gave the man who'd mocked C.C.'s name a warning look - one that suggested any other jokes like that weren't going to be tolerated.

"Thomas, you and your stupid jokes," said Chandler's father, taking C.C.'s hand in his and placing a kiss on it. "I am sorry, Miss Babcock, my brother can't hold his tongue sometimes," said Mr Graves with a wide (if simpering) smile.

"It was a joke, brother," said Thomas - Chandler's uncle, C.C. deduced - as he got to his feet. He too kissed her hand.

After C.C. had been introduced to all the men, they sat down and the waiters brought the menu and two complementary bread baskets. Feeling rather hungry and eager to begin, C.C. grabbed a roll. It was still warm, and had probably been baked fresh. There was butter in the middle of the table for it, too. She knew it would be the finest in the state, smooth and creamy. A perfect combination with the soft, warm bread.

No matter what, this lunch could still be delicious.

But as she grabbed her knife, ready to cut the roll open so she could spread butter on it, she caught Chandler's eye.

His _disapproving_ eye.

"What's wrong, Chandler?" she asked, knife blade millimetres from touching the crust.

"I, um... wouldn't do that if I were you, sweetheart," he replied, slipping his hands over here to take away her roll and the knife. "We wouldn't want those gorgeous legs of yours to get lumpy with our old friend cellulite, now would we?"

C.C. felt something akin to what one would feel when hearing the screeching sound of nails scratching down a blackboard on a loop. It made her grind her teeth; it was exasperating, infuriating, but most of all, it was painful. He'd never seemed to care about what she chose to eat before, so why did he care now? Why was he humiliating her that way?

There was one side of her - the anxiety-ridden and apologetic part of her - that wanted to believe this was just a well-intentioned (if misdirected) attempt at complimenting her current body and helping her keep it that way.

However, there was another side of her that would rather stick her butter knife in his eye...

"I have to agree with him, Dolly," said the man sat next to Chandler - his godfather, C.C. had learnt. He was a middle-aged man of immense girth, and thinning greyish hair; he had an air of self-importance, and a disgustingly lewd smirk. All in all, the classic high-class misogynistic pig.

C.C. disliked him already.

"I do the same thing for my wife, and she has a killer figure, even after six kids," said Chandler's godfather as he pushed a bagel completely covered with butter into his mouth.

C.C. felt sick just watching it happen. She pitied this man's wife - lying under that enough times to have six kids!

But she was so shocked, she couldn't even think to say anything!

Which was just as well, because control of the conversation had already moved to Chandler's father, who had his chest puffed out like some kind of Republican peacock.

"My wife's just the same," he said, sporting a wide grin. "Keeps herself perfectly trim, doesn't touch anything that I don't allow."

C.C. felt sick again, for an entirely new reason. He ordered his wife around so much, she didn't even eat what he told her not to?!

"My father was never that strict with us," she tried, perhaps futilely, to laugh it off. "My sister and I ate whatever we liked!"

Chandler leaned in, smirking, and murmured, "And no offence, but I've seen pictures of your sister. Believe me, doll, I'm doing you a favour."

C.C. had to make an effort not to slap Chandler right across his oh-so-charming face. How dare he say that about her sister?! D.D. had never been fat, she was just a little bit chubbier than C.C.. That was all. Not to mention that, having had three kids of her own, she'd gained a few extra pounds over the years, but she was average size! And her husband adored her! She didn't like any of the men around her, and she especially disliked Chandler's behaviour. This was unlike him, but if these were his true colours...

"So, Miss Babcock - Chastity. Can I call you Chastity?" said Mr Graves. He didn't wait for her answer in any case, he just continued talking, "I'll call you Chastity."

She hated being called Chastity.

"So, I hear you are a Broadway producer?" asked Mr Graves, handing his menu to the waiter. He briefly addressed the young servant to ask for his meal: 3 Shigoku Oysters, Salmon Sashimi, Stake Frites, chicken liver & foie gras paté, and a bottle of Pinot Noir.

"Yes, I am," replied C.C., also returning her menu to the waiter. She fancied the Carbonara. She turned to the waiter, ready to order, "I'll have-"

"A Caesar salad," interrupted Chandler, "And a glass of sauvignon blanc."

The waiter was gone before C.C. could correct him. Instead, she turned to Chandler.

"But that's not what I wanted."

Chandler raised his eyebrows, "We don't always get what we want, doll. Sometimes we have to settle for what we need."

 _Need?!_ She wasn't fat, was she? Even if she was, that wouldn't matter - she hadn't been allowed to order for herself! That was what mattered!

Didn't her choice matter to Chandler?

She was going to ask, but his father cleared his throat, catching her attention again.

"I said, I hear you're a Broadway producer," he repeated.

Ah. Work. At last, something she could talk about! Here, she'd be in her element!

"Yes, I work with Maxwell Sheffield," she replied, a sense of ease starting to make its way in. "We're currently-"

"Fine man, that Sheffield," interrupted Chandler's godfather. "Kind of an airhead, but the shows do okay, I hear. He must know something about all that theatre business. I remember we made business together a few years ago"

She knew something too, though. If they'd let her talk for more than twelve seconds at a time!

"Actually, a lot of the shows are decided mutually," she tried to announce. "Maxwell and I share credit for them, more often than not."

But no one was listening. The food had started to arrive by this stage, and they were all grabbing their cutlery to begin digging in. C.C.'s stomach protested as the smell of cooked meat and fish wafted over the table towards her, deliciously inviting...

Only for all hope of anything that could satiate her appetite turning up to die as a sad plate of lettuce and croutons was placed almost mockingly delicately in front of her.

"Enjoy your meal," the waiter smiled, before walking off.

C.C. scowled to herself. This wasn't a meal, it was the leftover scraps they wouldn't feed to the deer that went into the venison steak Chandler's godfather was currently swallowing whole! Chandler looked up from his own enviously full plate and smiled.

"Aren't you going to start, doll?" he asked, pointing his fork at her plate.

She didn't want to start. She didn't want the stupid, crappy salad. She didn't want the inferior wine, or even worse company. She didn't want to be there anymore.

She didn't want...this!

But she couldn't just get up and leave, could she? Even if she wanted to, didn't she owe it to Chandler to stay? Maybe she could give them a chance. She'd met people like this before - she hadn't liked those pigs either, but she'd managed! Perhaps she could do the same here?

So, despite her mind screaming at her not to give in, she picked up her fork and tucked into the meal without a word. She was finished long before any of the others, and she doubted she was as satisfied or full by the time they were finished, a couple of them giving loud burps, to the amusement of the others.

These weren't men. They were animals.

"See, C.C.?" Chandler nudged her. "This wasn't so bad, was it?"

She suppressed a groan, and answered through gritted teeth, "I suppose not..."

She was lying. Every inch of her knew she was lying. But he didn't know that.

"What are you two whispering about over there?" Chandler's father asked with keen interest, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Not making any plans to elope without telling the rest of us, are you?"

The very thought of doing that made C.C.'s skin crawl. Not that anybody else at the table had noticed.

"Don't elope; I love a real wedding," Chandler's godfather piped up, downing more wine. "I remember mine as if it were yesterday!"

"Me too," said one of the colleagues, further down the table. "I couldn't wait to get my wife home, so that I could introduce her to her new way of life-"

Chandler's father stopped him right there, "Sorry to tell you this, George, but what you carry around in your pants doesn't qualify as a new way of life."

Suddenly the table exploded into laughter again. When it calmed down, the man addressed as George smirked, and folded his arms.

"Well, I was actually referring to her new life in the kitchen," he said. "But it didn't take her long to become a domestic goddess, so I guess that became part of her new way of life, too."

C.C. had to force herself not to gape. Actually, the word was scowl. Was this bastard actually suggesting that-

"A woman's place is in the kitchen," concluded George, putting down his cutlery and leaning back in his chair.

 _Oh no._

Oh, hell no!

She was not going to stand this any longer!

Not sitting amongst misogynistic pigs, including her boyfriend, who was laughing merrily at his associate's statement. She didn't care if this was what he really thought about women, or if he was just agreeing with them for the sake of pleasing these idiots - she was not going to take it anymore.

She loudly pushed back her chair and got to her feet, tossing her napkin on Chandler's lap.

"What on Earth are you doing, Doll?" Chandler said, giving her a look that suggested she'd better be going to the restroom, or else...

"Going back to my rightful place, apparently," said C.C. sharply, "Where I can get some damn food that I actually want, and where I don't have to hear any of your misogynistic crap!" snapped the socialite, "Not only am I tired of hearing you talking like overgrown teenagers, but I am also tired of your misconceptions about us, women," she looked at Chandler's godfather, the slimy sod, "And just so you know, the deal you thought you made with Maxwell Sheffield, was actually planned and designed by me, and guess what? I got more money out of it than you did. Your lawyer was stupid enough not to read the fine print, and so were you."

That shut them up so nicely (quite a few diners nearby, too, but C.C. didn't care). Each and every single one of the stupid, fat men she'd spent too much time with was staring at her in shock.

That was, until Chandler's father coughed out a surprised laugh, "Chastity, sweetheart, there's no need to be like this! We're just having a little fun!"

"Yeah," Chandler backed his father up, putting his arm over her vacated chair. "There's no need to get like this! Unless..."

His face became more serious, and he leaned in towards her.

"Is it...that time of the month?"

That did it. She was leaving.

But not before giving Chandler a piece of her mind, personally.

"Even if I was, which I am not, it wouldn't make up for the fact that each and every one of you has been a jackass today," she told him, her voice low and dangerous. "And I've had more than enough of it."

She turned, preparing to leave the table, but had a sudden thought and stopped.

She grabbed a bread roll from the basket, ripped off a chunk with her teeth and ate it in front of him.

"Delicious," she announced, before scowling around at all the men present. "I'd bid you gentlemen good day, but seeing as I don't actually want any of you to have a good day, I'll just say goodbye."

She then turned, and stormed out of the restaurant.

Had she remained in for a few more seconds, she would have heard Chandler's godfather whisper an awed "what a woman..."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7**_

Niles knew Miss Babcock was at the door before even hearing her car door being slammed shut with a kick.

He also knew for a fact that she was angry.

No, wait... scratch that. She was _furious_.

He couldn't exactly understand what had caused her to be so upset; the noise in her head was too loud, and her thoughts might as well be screams. However, despite the mental racket, he was able to pick up the source of her anger: Chandler Graves.

And he couldn't be happier.

"Who stepped on your tail?" he asked when he opened the door for her, trying to lighten the mood.

She answered him with a glare, and shook her head as she marched past him, "Don't even bother, Niles!"

He blinked a few times, stunned, before closing the front door. That was odd, she usually couldn't wait to fling an insult back at him! Had things really gone that badly?

"How was your lunch?" he tried asking, watching as she wrestled off her coat.

"I don't want to talk about it," she snapped, struggling to get the last part of her arms out of the damned thing. "I don't want to talk about lunch, or Chandler, or...or anything!"

She flung her arms around, hurt and angry and sad all at once. It got her coat to the floor, but it also left her there crying. The angry adrenaline rush was clearly wearing off, and in her tiredness things were starting to come through more. Even without the mind-reading, he could tell it hadn't gone well. But with it, he knew...the lunch had gone wrong...he could make out phrases like _"he didn't even defend me"_ and _"disgusting pig men"_...

And the rest was pain, rage, humiliation... _hunger_? Had she not eaten, at this lunch? He needed to find out what had happened!

He approached her delicately, picking up her coat as he did, "Miss Babcock...are you sure you don't want to talk? Perhaps over...something to drink?"

He couldn't ask if she was hungry. He knew she'd just come from lunch, it would look suspicious.

After a few moments of hesitation, she nodded a slightly reluctant yes. She didn't look at him as she nodded, but he was happy that she hadn't refused his offer. He still could hear the prominent thoughts of hunger, and he desperately wanted to satiate said hunger, but how could he bring up the topic?

Maybe he could tempt her...

"Would you like to come with me to the kitchen? I haven't eaten yet, so I'll have my lunch as we speak," he said.

 _"I want food too,"_ he heard her think, and she actually looked up at him. _"Maybe I can ask him...? Well, we are going to talk about what happened anyway, so maybe I could... No. Yes. Ugh! What the hell is wrong with me?! This is Niles... I must be desperate to actually agree to talk to him. This whole change of hearts sounds like utter bullshit, but maybe..."_

"I can give you some dessert if you want," he said, interrupting her thoughts. "I suppose you've already had lunch, but if you want something sweet-"

"Actually," she cut across him, "I... I'm rather hungry. I... I didn't really eat."

 _Didn't eat?_ She was at lunch! Why didn't she eat?

"Why?" he asked, now worried. "What happened?"

C.C. clutched at her stomach to stop it from growling. Niles listened as she debated with herself.

" _Should I tell him? What good will come of it if I do? He can't exactly do anything! Chandler didn't do anything illegal by ordering that salad for me...but God, I wish I'd called that waiter back and asked for the carbonara...!"_

She was almost in tears thinking about it. And Niles was burning up inside.

So, her cad of a boyfriend had very nearly made her go without food! A salad, and probably a small one at that, was not a lunch! He could probably safely bet on Chandler not sticking to that dietary regime, either; nor anyone else at the table. He'd get the details of that later, though. For the moment, C.C. needed food and someone to listen to her.

Shaking his head, he guided her to the kitchen, "You know what? Tell me when you're ready. Eating comes first. Will some carbonara be alright? I'm rather in the mood for it..."

He heard her thoughts pick up at that, her mind practically begging to say yes. But he had to admire how calm and collected she was, despite how much she'd clearly gone through not an hour ago.

"Yes, please," she eventually said, allowing him to take her through to the kitchen.

He pulled out a chair for her at the table, and sat her with a glass of orange juice to keep her sugar levels up while he cooked.

As he did, he listened to her thoughts, as if listening to the radio.

 _"It smells so much better than the Rainbow Room's food already..."_

 _"I can't believe Chandler thought it would actually be a surprise to take me there! How long has he been living in New York? Asshole."_

Niles had to bite back a grin at that, and nearly jumped into action at the last thing he heard.

 _"I showed him with the bread, though. I'll eat bread if I want...I could actually go for some now, with some good butter..."_

He had to make his response to that appear natural, so he left it a few moments before looking up at her.

"Would you care for some garlic bread, Miss Babcock?" he asked. "We have some in the freezer, it won't take too long to cook..."

He'd made her jump with his offer, and then he heard her considering it.

And then, a thought he'd never imagined.

 _"He just offered me exactly what I wanted...! How many men are there like him in the world...?"_

He felt his heart pounding. Even if she hadn't said it aloud, she was _thinking_ it and it made him want to sing. She thought he was one of a kind, practically, and that was like the icing on the most delicious cake of finding out how upset she was with Chandler.

"Yes, please..." she was staring at him. It felt more intense than any other time they'd ever locked eyes. "Thank you, Niles..."

He was so caught up in how she looked and what she was saying that he nearly burned the bacon pieces, but he quickly returned to them, turning the heat down so that he could go and get the bread. He was going to make this the most amazing meal she'd ever had. Anything she asked for, he'd get, and nothing would be too much trouble.

It hit him just how deeply in love he was to act this way. He'd been in love before, but it had never been like this. It had never _felt_ like this. She was different, he'd known that since the very first moment he'd seen her - she infuriated him, there was no doubt about that, but she also seeped into his thoughts; inhabited them. She'd become an ever-present presence in his mind. One that he simply couldn't be without.

For years he'd channelled his feelings for her through countless pranks and zingers, but now that wasn't satisfying anymore. He wanted more with her. But most of all, he wanted her to be happy.

She _deserved_ to be happy.

Now that she was (a little bit) calmer than when she'd arrived, her thoughts were easier to read, and slowly, a picture of what had happened at lunch started to emerge. He fit together her ideas like a puzzle, and he truly disliked what he discovered.

Those pigs!

How dare they do such a thing! How dare they say such things about women! What kind of person thought that about someone else?!

No wonder she'd been so upset when she'd come in!

And that Chandler! He was in for it if he came to the mansion, that was for sure. He'd punch the cad's lights out without a second's hesitation!

No one did that to her. _No one_.

And no one ever would again, if he had anything to say about it.

But first, he had to finish her lunch. A real lunch, full of all the things she'd missed out on at the Rainbow Room.

The bread was done soon after that, and the pasta followed. He made two generous plates of it, and slid one onto the table in front of her.

"Here we are." he declared, "One plate of carbonara, as ordered."

He laid his own plate on the place mat opposite to C.C. and went to look for one of Mr Sheffield's bottle of wines - he had so many; he could very well share a few. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to find out, was he?

He poured two glasses of red wine and brought some shredded cheese to add to the pasta, should she want to do so.

"There we are," he said, taking a seat and directing a small smile in C.C.'s direction. "I hope you like it, Miss Babcock."

The producer simply couldn't help her smile, either, "You know, I think that blow to your head really messed you up," she said, catching a few strands of spaghetti in her fork. "You've never been this nice to me before."

Niles shrugged. "This has nothing to do with that blow to my head," he lied - in many ways, this was a consequence of the blow to his head. "I just so happen to have experienced a change of hearts."

She huffed out a laugh, and dug her fork more firmly into her food. A change of heart - it was so unlike either one of them!

And yet...and yet...

"A change of hearts," she echoed softly, keeping her eyes on her lunch. _This_ was lunch, not the travesty she'd just come from. "I suppose I'll have to take your word for it. I mean, this carbonara doesn't have liquid soap in it or anything, so I'll hold you to it being true."

Niles didn't have to read her mind to know she was being playful. It was close to how they'd usually talk to one another, but there was something...more familiar about it.

A familiarity he liked, and was going to reciprocate.

He pretended to get up from his chair, "Well, if you'd wanted that little bit of extra flavour, I could-"

Barking out a laugh, C.C. reached over and pulled him back into his seat.

"Sit down! This might be the best thing you've ever made; you might get a new reputation as a not completely useless butler."

"I don't recall hearing any complaints from you about the quality of my food," he said, ripping a bit of garlic bread, "Your critique was mainly focused on my coffee."

"That's because you put dishwasher water in it." she replied with a smirk, "Sneaky bastard..."

Niles staged an overdramatic bow, and C.C. used the brief instant when he wasn't looking up to steal his garlic bread. She chewed on it with gusto, delighting on Niles' affected look of offence.

"I should have known better…" he said, "Wild raccoons have a tendency to steal."

"You snooze, you lose, Dust Buster," replied the producer, grinning cheekily, "And this garlic bread is too damn good. Where did you get it?"

"In a place that to you is uncharted territory - the supermarket," he jested, a smirk slowly making its way across his features. "You know, that huge place where common people buy food?"

C.C. looked unamused, "I am well aware of what a supermarket is, Niles. You're just envious because I don't have to go to one."

Of course she didn't - she probably had people bring her food to her, as part of a delivery service. But he'd be the only one who was allowed to cook for her like that. And he couldn't help it, but it made him feel special.

She was currently thinking about where he was going to take the conversation. It was like a game of chess, with one player discussing potential moves aloud without realising.

"Well, I'm sure the general public appreciates your commitment to keeping the peace, and not committing indecent acts by showing up somewhere outside," he replied with a sip of his wine.

C.C. smirked at him over the top of her own glass, "I should pour my drink over your head!"

Niles raised an eyebrow, "After everything I've done for you today?"

He heard her mind flick back to the hours before. She realised just how much he had actually done for her that day, compared to all those other men...

Not men, really. "Pigs" was a good word. Or maybe even a few names with their roots in Anglo-Saxon.

She was staring at her plate, not taking her eyes from the place where there had been a pile of pasta, and now only a few lone strands of spaghetti soaked in sauce remained.

"You have done a lot for me today," she mumbled. "Made it more bearable, after being stuck in the 1950s for part of the afternoon."

He knew what she meant already. But she was also opening up, and he wasn't going to let an opportunity to talk like this pass him by!

"1950s?" he queried. "What happened?"

C.C. sighed heavily, put down her fork, and looked at him.

"Chandler happened. And so did his father, and uncle, and godfather, and far too many of his colleagues," she could feel herself crying a little again. "They were all pigs!"

He could believe that. But making her feel better would require talking.

"Pigs?" he asked, innocently. He deserved an Oscar for this performance – being the yenta he was, pretending not to know something didn't come naturally to him. He would even settle for a BAFTA award. "What did they do?

Of course he knew what had happened - he'd heard it in her mind, after all - but it wasn't like he could say this to her. There was no way to explain it rationally, and he'd rather keep his powers a secret from her. He didn't know how she'd react to them, especially when their... relationship? Friendship?... was so recent.

He hated to hear and see just how uncomfortable this had made her. She was a strong woman, and to her any show of what she perceived as weakness felt... wrong. Like wearing clothes that don't fit you. It was unlike her.

"Well... they... they made comments," C.C. began, averting her eyes.

"Comments such as...?" he encouraged her.

"Comments like... saying that women belong in the kitchen." she explained, "It bugged me, but I thought they'd move on from the topic. They didn't. Instead, the conversation revolved around how women ought to be pretty and submissive. They wouldn't let me talk, they'd make fun of our intelligence, and then Chandler... he..."

C.C. had to stop to press her hands to her eyes - she hated when she cried.

"He insulted my sister by calling her fat, and when I tried to eat bread he said I shouldn't and made me feel like I... like I needed to lose weight. Like I didn't deserve to eat it. Same with the food, he wouldn't let me order, he chose my food - salad."

That bastard. How dare he make her feel that way! How dare he control her to the point where she felt insecure! How dare he let his little friends say things which had no place in their day and age! But she was starting to cry, and that came before any raging he did. She hated being vulnerable, he knew that, but sometimes she needed to be. And if he could be the person she was vulnerable in front of, then he'd consider it a privilege.

So, ever so gently, he reached out and put his hand on her arm.

"It's alright, Miss Babcock; you're safe here," he said. "No one is going to make you feel that way here. Especially not some oily little tick who isn't even man enough to defend another person, or let them make their own choices."

C.C. coughed out a laugh, wiping her eyes and lowering her hands. He was right - she was amongst friends.

With a friend, who didn't want her to feel bad for something Chandler had done.

He was right. Chandler was an oily little tick. Not worthy of her time or attention!

"There now," he smiled, and patted her arm. "It's...much nicer for me to see you smiling, if I'm honest."

It really was. And knowing he'd made her laugh by insulting Chandler gave him an incentive to do it more often! He'd make her happy. For every sad moment the other man had caused, he'd give her a reason to smile.

And right now, the smile she had on her face was worth more than anything in the entire world.

Silence swelled in the room then, their food all but forgotten on their plates as they looked into the eyes of the other. There weren't thoughts to be heard or words to be said - they just needed to stare into the blue depths they shared.

But the questions didn't take long to pop up in C.C.'s head (which wasn't surprising).

 _"What is going on with me... us... Niles...?"_ she thought, still not daring to look away. She also thought just how nice his hand on her arm felt, and how his scent was oddly pleasant. Why hadn't she noticed it before?

" _We are enemies... aren't we? No... I can't honestly say we are. Not anymore. But what are we?! We aren't friends... we've been foes for twenty years – maybe he's been an enemy for so long that he's turned into a sort of friend…"_

Her mental commotion also awoke doubts in Niles's heart. He knew they weren't friends - if anything, they were frenemies - and he had no interest in being her friend. He wanted more.

And, by God, he wanted to kiss her!

"You know, I don't think you've looked at me like this before..." she muttered, speaking the first words in what felt like an eternity.

"I have," he replied, "but I was careful not to let you see."

That surprised her; he could hear the confusion it created in her head. But as she began to rationalise it to herself, coming down from her original panic, she came to the conclusion that maybe it was true.

Maybe he had been looking, and she'd just never noticed.

Kind of like how she was starting to notice some things about him...

 _"His eyes are much nicer than Chandler's. They're kinder..."_

Niles thought he could feel his own heart in his mouth. She was really thinking about him, trying to see him in a different light!

 _"It suits his hair, too. God, it looks soft...just like his lips..."_

Niles wasn't sure where she would have said next. He tried to open his mouth to say something else, only for C.C. to cut him off by crashing her lips against his.

There were no thoughts to be read there. There was only emotion, and the bodily senses.

Senses like touch, which came in handy when he went to cup her cheek and she reciprocated by sliding her nails towards his hairline, angling her head for better access.

Senses like taste, which were explored when she slid her tongue out of her mouth to glide it across his lower lip, moaning in delight when Niles took the invitation in his head and her tongue in his mouth.

Senses like sight, which came in when C.C.'s mind suddenly made a sound which could only be suitably described as a row of exclamation marks, and she pulled away with her eyes wide open and staring.

Staring in horror.

Niles looked at her in confusion, but her mind answered what her lips could not.

 _"Oh, God - what did I just do?!"_

Clearly, made the biggest mistake of her life, by the way she said that to herself! What had he been thinking, letting it go on?!

Well, he knew his head had taken a backseat in this and let his heart take the wheel for a while, but that was no excuse!

He had to apologise. Make it up to her - explain that he had only been doing what he'd thought she wanted!

She was getting up from her chair. Her thoughts were becoming too messy to distinguish clearly from one another, almost like she was trying to think of literally anything other than what had just happened but failing.

The end result was like listening to an old-fashioned dial radio that someone kept fiddling with.

But if he could help, it might solve everything. Not that he even knew where he'd even begin!

Well, getting up would be a good start. He followed her from the table, but she was almost at the door.

"Miss Babcock, please wait!" he was very close to pleading. "I-I can explain...!"

Could he? There was nothing rational to be said about the only explanation he had!

C.C. paused, no doubt from the help of one of the warring factions in her head that was saying she should hear him out. It made her hesitate in reaching for the door handle. But it was temporary. The rest of the thoughts took over again, sent a jolt of fear through her, and she shook her head, blinking hard.

"I... have to go...I'm sorry!"

She fled the room, the door slamming behind her, and Niles was left alone with a bunch of tangled thoughts and the ghost of her lips still on his own.

* * *

 **AN: Sorry for the delay! These past weeks have been rather stressful. But here you are; a new chapter! We hope you enjoy it and please let us know what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8**_

For C.C., it was something of a relief to drive. Driving meant not focusing on anything other than what it took to keep oneself alive in the car. It meant clearing one's head of everything one didn't want to think about, or feel, and live only for the moment and the anticipation of other peoples' movements. It certainly didn't involve thinking about what had just happened. And at the mere mention of that thought in her head, C.C. turned the radio up to drown it out.

All she had to do was get to her apartment. She could sort herself out - maybe take a bath, put on some clean pyjamas, order in food for the night and curl up on the couch in front of the TV.

Maybe she'd calm down and be able to think about...everything...a little more rationally.

At least, that had been her hope. The need for it had been getting stronger as she'd parked her car, gone through the lobby and taken the elevator to her penthouse. But this dream that could have become real was quickly crushed: when the elevator doors opened, she immediately noticed a familiar figure leaning on the wall outside her front door.

 _Chandler._

He must have heard the doors opening, because he turned his head away from where he'd been staring holes in the number on her door.

"C.C.!" he cried out, hurrying over to her as she stepped into the corridor. "At last! I was wondering if you were ever coming back!"

He reached out to hug her, but C.C. moved away before he could even put a finger on her. He wasn't touching her - not after what had happened. She wanted him far away from her; almost as far away as she wanted Niles to be.

Chandler frowned at her rejection.

"Doll? Why won't you-"

"I am not your doll, Chandler," C.C. spat, pushing past him, already rummaging her handbag for her house-keys. "Get the hell out of my porch."

Her words didn't seem to deter him from trying to hold her in his arms. What was more, he reached out and took hold of her upper arm, squeezing it just a little bit too much. Squeezing it just enough to make it hurt.

"Now wait a minute," he snapped, yanking at her arm roughly and forcing him to look at her. "Who do you think you are to-"

 _ **Slap**_

A hard, sure slap impacted painfully on Chandler's cheek. It was hard enough for C.C. to be able to release her arm with a wrench. No man manhandled her. Especially not Chandler Graves. The blow shook him for a moment. But not for long enough. Soon enough he was advancing on her again, getting intimidatingly close.

"Doll," he said, changing tactic and making his voice dangerously low. "Why did you do that? What have I done to you that you decide to hit me?"

What hadn't he done? He hadn't defended her, he'd openly joined in with insulting her and every other woman on the planet, he'd belittled and humiliated her in front of strangers...!

He gestured to his face, growing redder where she'd slapped him, "Would it feel good, if I did the same thing to you?"

C.C. gulped, feeling a little bit of bile rising in her throat, "Are you threatening me, Chandler?"

The man slammed his open hand against the wall, making her jump, "Not if you tell me what I did to deserve being hit!"

He was trying to scare her into backing down. She wondered if the wives of the men at the Rainbow Room table were all afraid of their husbands, and that was why none of them complained about what they had in life...

But she wasn't like them. She wasn't afraid of Chandler, even if he was trying to make himself look like a big, tough, violent man.

Niles was a big man. But his strength was soft, like it was for protection.

It was probably the wrong moment to have that thought, but it didn't stop it popping up in her head.

"Everything!" she shouted back at Chandler, remembering at last to answer. "Didn't it even occur to you once that everything that happened at the restaurant was a complete disaster?!"

"And whose fault was it?!" he screamed back at her, pushing her against the wall and pressing his hands on her shoulders to keep her steady; she was struggling to break free, not liking the direction where this was heading.

"Yours!" she spat - screamed - and pushed away. "Yours, for not defending me! For letting those pigs say all that crap about me. Yours for not letting me choose my food and for humiliating me in front of everyone!"

"I did no such thing!" he growled, pressing her, once again, to the wall. " _You_ were the one who embarrassed herself and me! Making a scene at the restaurant-"

She slapped him hard again. She wanted to get into her apartment; things were getting out of hand, and she'd rather Chandler stayed away from her.

Far away.

What she wasn't expecting, was the slap that he delivered in return.

It was hard, and sharp, and caught her entirely across her cheek. As her hand reached up to tenderly check it, she felt not only for bruising but also for cracked bones and missing teeth. She didn't find either, thank God. But it didn't make it that much better.

Chandler was still fuming, as well. He was practically foaming at the mouth!

"See what you made me do now?!" he demanded to know, gesturing around them. "Making a scene! Like you always do!"

C.C. felt for her keys. She needed to get out of there - get in her apartment, lock the door and call the police.

She was going to make another dive for the door when Chandler pointed a warning finger in her face.

"Count yourself lucky it was only me around to see it," he snarled. "I had come over to try and patch things up, and let you meet the guys again on another night. But it looks like you're not in the right mind for that. I'll come back when you are."

With that said, he stormed away. He didn't bother to wait for the elevator - he shoved the door to the stairs open and disappeared onto the landing.

He left a deathly silence behind, and before he changed his mind, C.C. scrambled to put her key in the lock of the front door.

She got inside, slamming it behind her and locking it.

And in the quiet, with her cheek smarting and her heart pounding in fear that she couldn't release before, she started to cry.

What was she going to do now? Should she tell someone?

One person came to mind when she thought of that question.

He'd been so good to her only an hour ago. Even if she had ruined things by being stupidly impulsive, maybe he'd know what to say to make it better?

She didn't want it to sound like she needed him, or anything. She hated showing that kind of vulnerability. It was difficult, when someone she'd let get close to her had just hurt her, but as much as it killed her to admit, the thought of talking to Niles sounded comforting.

So, taking a few shaky steps away from where she'd been leaning against the door, she grabbed the phone and dialled in the Sheffield's number.

It rang for quite some time and, for a second, she dreaded the possibility that he wasn't picking up because of what happened. She tried to calm herself down by mentally suggesting that he might've gone out, which brought up worries about what to do if one of the other family members answered. She didn't know if she'd be able to stand any of them knowing!

But eventually, much to her relief, the man she wanted to talk to picked up.

"Sheffield residence?"

Where did she start? Well, by letting him know it was her was probably the best way to go...

"Niles...it's me..."

"Miss Babcock?!" he sounded concerned down the other end, like knowing it was her had made him jump and like the tone of her voice was making him worry at the same time. "What's going on? Whatever is the matter?!"

He sounded like he'd run over there himself, dodging traffic and wrestling pedestrians out of the way, in order to get to her.

"Chandler was here..." she explained softly, sniffing.

She couldn't see it, but she swore that in her mind's eye she could see him stiffening.

"Is he still there?" he asked.

It did still sound silent outside.

"No...he left..."

The butler made a serious, thoughtful noise in the back of his throat before speaking again.

"Alright," he said. "Stay where you are, I'm coming over. Don't answer the door unless you know it's me, alright?"

"Alright," she replied, nodding softly and wiping away a few lone tears. She could feel her cheek swelling; if it didn't go down, she'd probably miss work tomorrow. No need for everyone in the vicinity to find out about her little... disagreement with her former boyfriend. Should Nanny Fine find out, everyone within a range of eighty miles (plus the whole population of Queens) would know about her failed relationship and more than undignified treatment at the hands of Chandler Graves.

When she'd hung up, she quickly went to the toilet and inspected her swollen cheek. Her face was still smarting from the blow, the area was bright red, and a bruise would probably blossom there, but she was otherwise unscathed.

It could have been worse.

And, she knew it would get worse if she stayed with him. She knew many cases of domestic abuse, and this was just how it started. She was not willing to let it continue any further. She retrieved one of the cold gel pack she kept in the fridge for when she suffered from migraines, and pressed it to her cheek. It relieved the physical pain to a certain extent, but it did nothing to soothe her nerves.

She felt like crap.

And she could only lie on the sofa until Niles arrived.

It made her jump when eventually there was a knock on the door.

"Miss Babcock?" came the muffled voice of the butler. He sounded just as worried as he had on the phone. "It's me, Niles."

She went to open the door, finding him stood looking antsy on the other side.

He didn't waste time in examining the area she'd been hit - it was impossible not to, when she still had the pack pressed against where she suspected there'd be a bruise the next day.

"God, Miss Babcock, what happened?!" he practically demanded, coming in and shutting the door. He then gently took her by the arms and pulled her into the light, so he could take a look. "Let me see...!"

He let her take her time in peeling the gel pack away, and he swore under his breath when he saw.

Letting her put the pack back, he lay his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes.

"Miss Babcock, I want you to be honest with me," he said, pausing only briefly to swallow. "Did Chandler do that to you?"

It was becoming hard to speak because of the pain and the swelling, but she could still nod.

Not that she wanted to do so...

There was a part of her that was terribly ashamed of what had happened. She should have been more careful - she should have not gotten off the elevator. Maybe she should have pacified him...

But there was a bigger (and, thankfully, more rational) part of her that knew for a fact this wasn't her fault. Chandler was in the wrong. He'd been an abusive idiot. She didn't have to be ashamed of it, and she knew there were people who were willing to help her in moments like this.

Like the man currently stood before her. They had a backlog of fourteen years of disagreements, and not once had he put a hand on her. Not even when they genuinely detested one another.

He was a good man.

Chandler was the asshole.

And now that Niles was here, she couldn't help but feel safe.

"Yes," she finally said, looking away, "I found him at my door, and he manhandled me, and I slapped him so he would let go. He... didn't like it, so he hit me back."

Niles felt the anger boiling up inside at hearing that. It wasn't even quelled or distracted from by the fact that she'd said she felt safe with him. Chandler was a dead man, the next time he saw him. That was now officially a promise.

No one who claimed to be a man put his hand on a woman. And no one touched or hurt C.C. Babcock. No one.

He was going to teach Chandler that the hard way, personally.

But that would come when he saw the man. He had to take a step back for the time being, and take care of C.C.. She needed some comfort (which she knew he could provide) and he was going to make her feel better as much as he was able.

He nodded at what she'd said, "Alright. Well, I didn't see him outside, so he's probably gone for now. But I'm going to stay anyway, for a while, to make sure he doesn't come back and to take care of everything. Okay?"

He heard that that relieved her, but he let her nod anyway.

"Okay," he took her free hand and led her towards the sofa. "Come sit down, and keep the pack on it until the swelling goes away a bit. Do you want anything to drink? Some water, maybe?"

"Whiskey," she replied as she slumped on the sofa. "No ice."

She needed a drink - he could clearly hear it both in her head and from her lips. He didn't blame her, either. He would feel the same way had he been in her position.

"Help yourself to one if you want," she added, closing her eyes and flipping the gel pack to place the colder side on her cheek. "Mi casa, su casa and all that jazz..."

He poured a glass of scotch for each of them and carried them back to the living room on a tray. Plus, after lowering the tray on the table, he went to look for a blanket, which he placed over C.C. before taking a seat next to her.

"How does your cheek feel?" he asked, knowing full well what her answer would be. He just wanted to talk about something - distract her, and it was the first thing that came to mind.

"Horrible..." she replied, and let out a sigh, "I'll probably have to miss work tomorrow. I don't want anyone to know about this."

"Hm," Niles knew that there'd be questions if she went in as she currently was, and the answers were too awkward to give. "Maybe that's for the best. I can take anything over that Mr Sheffield needs from here, and let him know that I didn't think you looked well - if you phone in sick tomorrow, it'll look more believable."

C.C. angled her head to look at him, and she smiled as much as she could without wincing.

 _"God, he's being so good to me,"_ she thought. _"It's like he knows exactly what I need...!"_

If only she knew the truth...

"Thank you," she murmured, and reached out a hand towards his. Her fingers were starting to brush his. "You know, you being here really is..."

She trailed off, and then swore loudly.

Niles knew what she'd thought of, but he acted surprised, "What?! What's the matter?!"

"The key!" she cried out. "Chandler has my spare key!"

Niles thought. If the bastard had her key, he could get in whenever he wanted, at any time. He'd had some basic experience with locks. Maybe he could take a look and set something temporary up until someone more professional could come in? If he could make her safe for even one night, it would be enough for him.

But he had to make asking look natural.

"You...you don't think he'll try to get in, do you?" he asked, keeping the trepidation in his tone.

He didn't want to make her scared or upset, but keeping up the pretence required his most natural-sounding and looking emotions.

C.C. sighed, and shook her head, "Who knows what he'll do? I sure as hell don't know anymore...!"

Frowning, Niles sat up straighter, "Um...Miss Babcock, you do know I've had some experience with locks, right?"

She blinked at him, turning and wrapping her blanket around herself more, "No, I...I didn't know that..."

"Well, I could take a look at the lock on the front door, if you want?" he offered. "And then you could call a proper locksmith in the morning to get it changed permanently?"

He listened in as she thought it over.

 _"Well, that could work...is there nothing this man truly can't do?"_

His heart was warmed by the unspoken compliment. There truly was nothing he wouldn't do for her. Especially if that meant protecting her from an abusive idiot such as Chandler Graves.

Self-inflated prick...

There was a part of Niles that actually wished for Chandler to show his ugly face, so that he could punch his lights out. It would certainly be satisfying, and have the added bonus of protecting C.C..

"That would be wonderful Niles... uh... thank you," she said, trying not to sound as awkward as she felt. What was she? A teenager?!

Niles smiled at her.

"Then I'll get right on it," he replied, getting to his feet.

In just thirty minutes, Niles installed a safety chain - it wouldn't stop Chandler from using his key, but it would certainly stop him from entering the house. Should he get violent and, God forbid, try to stave the door in, the chain would buy C.C. some time to escape through the back door and look for help.

All in all, he thought it was a job well done.

At least, it would serve to keep her safe until a locksmith came to change her lock.

"There we go," he said, dusting his hands off. "All done!"

C.C. had come to stand behind him, the blanket still around her shoulders, and her arms folded across her chest.

 _"He really did it..."_ she sounded impressed in her head.

"That's not bad work at all," she said aloud.

Niles looked back and forth between her and the door rather proudly, "All part of the service, Miss Babcock."

He went to put the tools back under her sink, all the while listening to her as she sat back down on the sofa, not twenty feet away.

 _"What are you doing? If you want him to stay for a little while, just ask!"_

Niles tried hard not to beam to himself. She wanted him to stay! She was embarrassed to do it, but she wanted him to! And he did so want to stay, too. Even if only so he could make sure Chandler got the thrashing of his life if he tried anything. Maybe he could think of something? An excuse to let him stay a bit, and make her feel more comfortable?

He noticed the stove wasn't set out for any kind of cooking. She'd obviously not thought about food once she'd gotten in...

And it was getting quite late. She needed to eat.

"Miss Babcock?" he called, catching her attention as he came to the kitchen door. "I can't help but notice that it doesn't appear as though you've eaten. I could whip something up for you, if you're interested?"

She was trying to make herself not look too eager as she sat more upright on the sofa, looking over the back of it at him. But her thoughts told him everything he needed to know.

 _"I can't believe it...! How can one man be so good?"_

A smile started to appear on her face, "I'd...like that, very much. I-If it's not too much trouble, I mean?"

Niles shook his head and shrugged, "It's not any trouble at all! Everybody has to eat. And, if I might say so, after the day you've had, you deserve a good meal and someone to make it for you."

He couldn't describe the noise she thought in her head after that. It was clearly supposed to be words, but it hadn't come out that way - it was more like a string of emotional vowels, let out in a display of how touched she was.

He didn't let on he'd heard it as he continued, "Is there anything in particular that you'd like me to make? I haven't gone through the fridge or your larder, but I can probably prepare a dish or two out of most things..."

Again, the inner turmoil in C.C.'s mind flooded his own. He could tell she was mostly happy about him being so considerate and kind, but she was also still wary (and more than a little confused) of his reasons behind being so kind to her.

Not that she could possibly know what he truly and really felt.

" _...but you kissed him..."_

" _He's never been this kind..."_

" _... perhaps he is after something?"_

Thoughts like these crossed her mind, one after the other, twirling and curling around her desire to just enjoy from his company. She struggled to put her guard down, and although Niles had started to prove himself trustworthy, a few doubts remained.

But, much to Niles delight, she chose to cast them aside.

For the time being, at least.

"Or maybe we could order in?" she offered; Niles could hear she wanted to pay him back for what he'd done for her. And he wasn't going to turn down an offer like that. Especially not if it meant sitting and watching television with her while they waited.

Even the thought of doing something that domestic was the most inviting thing in the world.

He smiled at her and nodded, "Alright, then. If that's what you want, then that's what we'll have."

She relaxed against the sofa more, smiling back at him, "There's a flyer for the local Chinese takeout place in the drawer by the phone."

Chinese takeout it was, then. Disguising the happy spring in his step, Niles went to fetch the number, picked up the phone and dialled it. When the time came, he listened in on the things C.C. was thinking about in her head to make the order (listing them in a different order, of course, to make it seem less suspicious), and he added a couple of extra things which he liked the sound of himself in order to complete the meal.

He then put the phone down, and went back to the sofa quite satisfied.

"All ordered," he announced to her. "What would you like to do while we wait? Watch some television, perhaps?"

She agreed to that readily, and he flicked through the channels until he found a movie that C.C. said she really liked in her head. They settled into watching, laughing and quoting the lines they knew, and when the food arrived Niles went and brought it back. It was the most delicious meal he'd ever eaten, purely because he was eating it with her, on her sofa in her apartment.

When they were full, they collapsed against the back of the sofa again, and with both a thought and an out-loud dismissal, C.C. claimed that they'd get cleared up later. Niles agreed, and felt a slow, lazy warmth coming over him. It was the nicest night he'd ever spent anywhere.

And it only became more so, as he felt C.C.'s head loll onto his shoulder.

She'd...fallen asleep...! On him!

She looked so peaceful there...

Like everything was finally right with the world.

He couldn't leave now - not only because he didn't have the heart (nor the desire) to wake her up, but also because she deserved a proper rest with no interruptions whatsoever. He supposed she'd wake up soon, when it was time for her to go to bed. Until then, however, he was more than happy to stay by her side, holding her close.

He event went as far as to lean his head against hers.

He wasn't sure what caused it - maybe it was the physical closeness to C.C., the sleepiness caused by a more than hefty meal, or simply the fact he just knew this was the right place for him to be at, but it wasn't long until his eyelids were drooping. And suddenly, like when dawn breaks and night comes to an end, Niles fell asleep too.

* * *

The coldness woke Niles up.

It was, after all, still winter, and although he was inside a well-heated apartment, he couldn't help but wish for a blanket. Perhaps there was one, somewhere in the room? He had to get up and look. He didn't want to disturb C.C. though, so he tried to edge his way up and around her. Not that it worked – she shifted and started to moan, her slowly waking body and her mind catching up.

"That was a great nap...!"

She stretched, and slowly blinked her eyes open. She saw him still sat there with his arms very near to looking like he was holding her.

But she wasn't afraid of that.

 _"Where is he going?"_

Niles froze, trying to think of an answer that wouldn't make him look odd. Coming up with nothing, he decided to just tell her the truth.

"I...felt cold, I was going to look for a blanket..." he gulped, suddenly feeling awfully awkward – maybe he should go? Or give her some space? "Bur I guess I'll… uh…"

He tried to stand up, but her mind cried out _"No!"_ at the same time her hand reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt.

"Wait," she murmured. "Don't go anywhere."

Her hand was soothing on his chest, and he could see ...determination in her eyes? It matched the thought in her head _, "I'm going to do it. This is what I want."_

"Miss Babcock?" he asked, feeling his mouth going dry.

"I know another way of warming up," she said, pulling him close and pressing her lips to his in a wonderful kiss.

Niles, although initially surprised by the kiss, welcomed her soft lips, pressing his own to hers. He wrapped his arms even tighter around her, relishing in the feeling of her body in his arms. She slipped her fingers into his hair, gripping at it, and held him close.

Little moans left her throat, and as the kiss progressed, Niles mirrored her. Things were quickly heating up and Niles didn't think he had the control to refuse her. Not that he wanted to refuse her, at any rate.

Throughout their kiss, there wasn't a coherent thought in either of their minds. Niles could still hear her lustful thoughts, though, for they were a mixture of abstract ideas and the mental equivalent of moans.

It was beautiful, and neither wanted it to end.

But eventually they pulled away, heaving chests and bated breaths.

Their eyes were quick to find each other, and for a long time they could only stare. The atmosphere was tense, almost as if it were a rubber band that had been stretched and was about to snap, and neither knew how to proceed.

Granted, Niles knew how he _wanted_ to proceed. He wanted to do it again, and do more – to hold her against his body and kiss her, and make her moan just like she had...

Moan and scream in equal measure.

But he had to let her thoughts come back to coherent before he reacted. If she decided that it had been a mistake after all, he wasn't going to force the issue. No matter what he wanted.

He wanted her to be happy above all else.

And her thoughts were growing clear again.

 _"Wow...that was amazing..."_

It had been amazing. But would she want-

 _"More."_

Before he could finish his own thought, her lips were back on his again. But this kiss was much briefer, and they held each other close as she finally spoke.

"Do you...um, have to be back at the mansion?" she asked quietly, running one hand down his front, lightly massaging his chest.

Her mind was full of thoughts about the sofa, or her bedroom, or even her bathroom. She was deciding which one was best, if they could make it there...

She was asking him!

And he knew what his answer would be.

"No, I don't," he said, pecking her lips, "And even if I did, I wouldn't leave you."

She smiled up at him, reaching out to cup his cheek in her hand; her mind had made a choice, she wanted him to take her in her bed.

Who said the other places couldn't come next?

"Good," she murmured, shifting on the sofa and moving her face closer to his. "Because I don't want you to go."

She needn't say it - Niles knew.

Again, they were lost to the world in a mind-blowing kiss, only this time their hands wandered. And fondled. And pinched. And, gloriously, they began to take their clothes off.

She was the first to get naked, Niles following her closely. They rested on their sides, and C.C. was soon being pressed to the back of the sofa by Niles, all while his nimble fingers found her core and stroked it with purpose.

"Oh... Niles..." she moaned, relishing in his playful touch. He was teasing, she could easily tell. It was fantastic. Even if her body was already screaming its need for him, it was fantastic.

"Yes, Miss Babcock?" he murmured in a hoarse voice - he was just as aroused as she was. "What do you want me to do? You have to tell me."

He knew what she wanted, he could hear her thoughts, but he wanted her to say it.

He wanted her to ask him to-

"Make me yours," she whispered, and began kissing him again.

That was all Niles needed.

Her mind had given up the thought of going to her bed. She'd realised they weren't going to make it there - not just yet, anyway. She wanted him, and she wanted him right away, no matter where that was.

And right where they were was perfect, anyway.

He made his strokes harder and more deliberate, touching all the places she responded best to, and listening to the pleasurable moans that left her throat with each one. But she wanted more. She was hungry for it, and he wasn't going to deny her a thing.

He'd never deny her the pleasure she wanted.

He pulled her closer, using his thumb to stroke her clit as he inserted his fingers into her, pumping them in and out in a steady rhythm.

That was when the moaning got louder, becoming screams, "Oh, Niles! Yes...keep going!"

And so he did, pumping in and out of her as her ecstasy built, and he watched in wonder as she teetered on the edge before shouting out his name one last time and falling into a world of overwhelming bliss. She pressed herself against him as she caught her breath back, pressing her lips lazily against his own as she came down off the high and her thoughts returned to the activity at hand.

But it was time to stop teasing.

Never breaking the kiss, he rolled on his back and pulled her into his lap, helping her straddled him and position herself just above his manhood, tip right at her entrance.

Finally, she lowered herself onto him. And the further she did, the more she broke the kiss, gasping at the feeling of him inside her.

Her thoughts were like music.

 _"Oh, God...! He feels so good already!"_

Niles couldn't help grinning momentarily, before the pleasure forced him to stop and he began to roll his hips against her rocking motions. He slid his hands up and down from her thighs to her hips and back again, feeling every inch of skin he could on the way, and groaning in appreciation.

Appreciation she was feeling, too.

"Oh, Niles...that feels good," she panted, gripping at his shoulders.

He gave one hard upward thrust, making C.C. squeak and then laugh a little. He was happy to see her enjoying herself - besides, it was his pleasure to deliver. Literally.

"Yes... yes... just like that," she moaned, bending down to kiss him. The pace became unhurried then; they wanted to enjoy being together. No rushing. Their timing was, at long last, absolutely perfect.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered in between kisses, "So, so beautiful..."

He meant his words. She was beautiful, and perfect, and wonderful, and he loved her beyond words. This was perfect, and he'd be damned if he let it slip through his fingers. They had circled each other for years, stuck in a Victorian dance that entailed no false steps or mishaps. They had spent years as enemies, fighting to win a pointless war, but what they had failed to see was that neither could win.

This, however, was definitely winning.

This, he thought as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, was perfect.

He rolled them on their sides, (pleasantly) surprising C.C., who quickly hooked her leg over his hips and smiled at him as he pushed into her, reaching uncharted territory.

No man had ever reached as deep as Niles had. In more senses than one.

This wasn't just a one-night thing. She knew that much, even if it was impossible for her to think any clearer than that.

She didn't want to think any clearer than that. Not yet.

"God, you're good," she groaned, digging her nails into the flesh of his back and nipping at his ear. "Don't stop..."

Niles wasn't intending to. The feeling of her in his arms, her walls around his manhood, was the single greatest experience he'd ever had, and he didn't want it to end.

He was going to make it the greatest experience she'd ever had, too. He wanted her to feel everything he did, and take joy from it. He wanted her to scream out just how satisfied she was, for everybody to hear.

He wanted the world to know that C.C. Babcock was happy, and he wanted the pride of knowing it was because of him.

So he slowed his thrusts just enough for her to feel them all, and began to trace his hands up and down her body, kissing her neck as he did. C.C. responded by dragging her leg up and down his side, building the heat and the friction between them, and she grabbed at his hand to lay it on her breast.

Niles knew what she wanted him to do. And he was going to send her senses into overdrive as he did, he decided. He started massaging the supple flesh of her breast, squeezing and caressing, and pinching at the nipple. It was causing all kinds of delighted noises to come from C.C.'s mouth, but it wasn't over yet.

He still had more in mind.

So he dipped his head down to her chest, kissing and nipping at her breasts, one after the other. Until he chose where he was going to start, that was, at which point he covered one of her nipples with his mouth and started to suck, circling it with his tongue.

And all the while, he never stopped his thrusting.

He didn't have to read C.C.'s thoughts - not that they were anything that made sense currently - to know that she was enjoying it. Her loud moans and cries of pleasure were more than enough, and the way she tangled her fingers in his hair only spurred him on.

She pressed her lips against the top of his head, before throwing her head back as her walls started to tighten.

"Oh, God...!" C.C. cried out. "You...are...amazing!"

Not as half as amazing as she was, but he wasn't about to turn it into an argument.

"So are you," he gasped, dragging his mouth away from her chest to kiss her on the lips again.

She reciprocated his kiss with eagerness, relishing in his touch. He was such a good lover! His thrusts were calculated, deep, and the pace was just perfect. He was scratching the right itches and touching the right spots. She'd be a goner soon enough, she knew, but by God she just wanted to enjoy him a little longer.

"Roll over," she urged him, "You... on top..."

He immediately obeyed (he'd been about to move anyway, he'd heard her desire for him to be on top in her mind) and fastened his pace, making sure to go as deep as it was physically possible.

This was heaven.

He slowed the pace just a little to allow her to enjoy for a little longer, but eventually she had to fall over the edge. There was so much he could do to stop the inevitable. Not that he gave her any time to recover (he knew she'd love it) – immediately, he got to his feet, picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bathroom.

He lowered her in the bathtub, opened the shower, and then he proceeded to make her his once again.

Once they were done (and after Niles took some moments to recover), the dining table followed.

And the kitchen worktop.

And finally, her bed.

And each time was as glorious as the last - so glorious that, as they cried out each other's names one last time and Niles emptied himself into her, they were both seeing stars.

Shaking and spent, Niles collapsed onto her, only allowing himself a few moments to catch some of his breath back before he rolled them over so C.C. could spread out over his chest.

She was panting, too. Her heart was hammering, and her thoughts were cloudy. They were just singular words, floating in and out of her mind, like _"Amazing"_ and " _Fantastic"_ and _..."Best"?_

Niles tried not to let himself get too smug over that last one. It was difficult, but he thought he could manage.

As far as he was concerned, she'd been the star of the show anyway.

He rested his head gently against hers and stroked her arm with his fingertips.

"Might it be alright of me to say how wonderful that was?" he asked quietly.

C.C. chuckled deep in her throat, "I don't see why not..."

Niles grinned, "Alright, then. That was wonderful, and fantastic, and amazing."

Her thoughts were starting to become clear, and he was enjoying listening to them very much.

"And perfect..."

He never thought anybody had described being in bed with him as perfect before. He certainly hadn't used it for anyone else; the word only seemed to apply to right then. Holding her in his arms, having just made love to her and having just heard her moaning his name like a religious mantra, was perfect.

She laughed softly at his joke, and then stifled a yawn. She was exhausted, he could tell.

So was he, to be honest. He hadn't been so vigorous about anything in so long...!

"I take it this means I am still staying the night?" he asked.

C.C. hummed happily, and palmed his chest with one hand, "Hopefully this won't be the only night either, Butler Boy..."

The warmth inside Niles' chest didn't just come from her massaging. She wanted them to be like this? Her thoughts confirmed it all - she was imagining breakfast for two the next day, and them going to work in her car, and then the future stretching out with possibilities. He liked the thoughts. But he couldn't say so, obviously, so instead he reached up and kissed her forehead, allowing her to cuddle as close as she wanted to.

She closed her eyes as she did, and it wasn't long before her breathing grew deeper and more even. She'd fallen asleep, and he could hear her starting to dream.

Not that he had to dream, he thought as he settled in to sleep as well.

His greatest dream had just come true.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9**_

Waking up next to a man after a night of passion wasn't unknown to C.C. Babcock. She'd had her fair share of lovers over the course of her life, but for one reason or the other, no man had lasted for long.

Sometimes it had been her – she'd get bored of them or just want them for a one-night stand.

Some other times, the men had just disappeared. Some of them even before morning had come.

Part of her had come to accept her perennial loneliness. She'd gotten used to being alone and relying only on herself and herself alone. She'd learnt to live that way, and it had sort of worked for the past fifteen years or so. However, she'd began to wonder if she'd ever find the one.

But now, as she woke up still wrapped in Niles' arms, she knew she had.

None of those men had been right for her.

The one man who was so, had always been right under her nose.

He was still asleep, a content smile resting on his usually tired features. The tranquil morning sun streaming in danced off his sandy-blonde hair, which she couldn't resist stroking. They were soft.

He was soft. Inside and out.

"Morning," he said, eyes still closed and voice a tad hoarse and heavy with sleep.

It surprised her a little, finding out that he was awake after all, but it didn't bother her that much.

"Morning," she replied, returning to stroking his hair. She didn't feel like stopping. "How did you sleep?"

"Perfectly," Niles replied, finally opening his eyes to look at her.

His eyes were beautiful. She'd never realised just how much they shone, especially in the light of the early morning sun.

Maybe it was what they'd done that made them shine? Or maybe it took being with him for her to notice...

Either way, it didn't matter. She wasn't planning on losing it now she had it.

"Good," she murmured, bringing her fingers down to his cheek. "I think I was exhausted..."

Niles' features slipped into a smug grin, and he kissed the tip of her index finger.

"After five times in one night? I should hope so, otherwise I'd be in danger of not keeping up...!"

"We are smug, aren't we?" she commented, smirking, and sitting up so she could move to straddle Niles. She loved the feeling of his body beneath hers, and her hands were soon on his chest, massaging it lightly.

"Can you blame me?" asked the butler, cupping her bottom. He even squeezed it a little, eliciting a small giggle from her.

"Hm, I guess I cannot, but don't get too confident," she said, lying down on his chest; he loved the feeling of her breasts against it.

"Never," he said, and kissed her.

It wasn't a surprise to either of them when, eventually, the kiss resulted in a more than pleasant round of morning sex. Unlike the night before, this time the pace was slow and unhurried, but equally good.

Maybe even better.

Because, they knew, this meant they were in it for the long run.

He then offered to prepare her breakfast and bring it to bed, but she refused. Claiming he couldn't be trusted around her food (lest he slip something lethal in her coffee), she got up and accompanied him to the kitchen.

He was more than happy when, apart from a pair of pyjama pants, she chose to wear his discarded shirt. He, in turn, was given a comfortable and warm dressing gown and a pair of pyjama pants (which C.C. had planned on gifting to Chandler, but oh well...).

He was in the middle of making pancakes (C.C. leaning comfortably against his back and with her arms wrapped around his middle) when there was a knock on the door.

"Were you expecting someone?" asked Niles.

C.C. shook her head. He could hear she was afraid, even if she wasn't saying it aloud.

"Then you stay here and I'll open the door," he told her.

After pressing a small kiss to her lips, he fastened the robe's sash and went over to the door.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"It's Chandler! Open up!"

Niles stiffened, feeling his fist starting to clench.

So, the pig had come back to try his luck again. Well, he wasn't going to come out best in this – Niles would see to that personally!

He'd already promised his fist a date with the other man's jaw. Perhaps it was time that the two were introduced?

So he opened the door, finding Chandler stood there, looking the very picture of an agitated man.

"Oh, it's you – I didn't know you worked for C.C. as well as the Sheffields."

If Niles hadn't been so angry inside, that whole sentence would have been somewhat laughable. How naive or at least unobservant did the man have to be to not understand what was going on then?

"I came to tell C.C. that I've forgiven her for yesterday, and that we're going out today to meet my friends, to see if she can behave a little better," Chandler explained. "Is she up? I smell breakfast..."

He tried to peer over Niles' shoulder, but the butler blocked the view with his arm, and glared at the businessman.

"She doesn't want to see you," he said curtly.

Chandler's face fell, retaining only some confusion.

Then he properly looked at what Niles was wearing.

"You...don't work here, do you?" he asked.

Niles straightened back up in the doorway, drawing himself up to as much of his full height as possible.

"It certainly took you long enough to work that out," he said. "I came over last night, to make sure that she was alright."

When the butler looked closely, he realised that Chandler was trembling.

"Well...if your attire is anything to go by, I'd say that you made sure she was more than "alright"!" he shouted, slamming his fist into the wall by the door. "That bitch! I wasn't gone a few hours to cool off and to let her do the same, and this is what she does to me?!"

That did it for Niles.

Opening the door fully, he marched outside and punched Chandler straight in the face. The man staggered a few paces, hand covering his now bruised cheek. There was shock on his features, but it soon morphed into hatred.

Had Niles been able to read his mind, he would have known that he was baffled at having been hit by a servant. Chandler Graves had never been mistreated in his life, let alone by a filthy butler who didn't know his place!

"I hope that teaches you a lesson," said the butler coldly, glaring at Chandler.

" _You_ teach _me_ a lesson?!" he howled, stalking towards the butler, hand curled in a fist. "You are a servant. You are no one! You can't teach a lesson to your betters."

Niles scoffed at that, which seemed to enrage the man even further.

"Are you done talking? I have to finish mine and C.C.'s breakfast," said Niles, sounding bored and uninterested.

Again, this served to fuel Chandler's rage.

"I am sure you fed that whore already," seethed the man, "After all, she loves sucking di-"

He never finished his sentence, because Niles cracked him across the jaw again. This time it was enough to send Chandler to the floor.

And when he shakily scrambled back to his feet again, Niles saw the man's lip was split. Good. He deserved to look like he'd been roughed up. It might teach him a lesson to go back where he came from, humiliated and beaten.

"Don't you ever say anything like that about her again," the butler growled his warning. "Stay away from her entirely. Don't visit, don't call, don't email or fax. In fact, don't try to contact her in any way, otherwise you'll answer to me again."

Chandler scowled back at him in silence, so he continued.

"She isn't interested in seeing you. All you did was prove yourself an arrogant boor, and she deserves far better."

"And you really think that's you?" Chandler spat, a little bit of blood trickling down his chin.

Niles stared back at him, his firm gaze never once wavering, "If I can be, then I will be. Now I suggest you leave, before I call the police."

The mention of the police seemed to make Chandler bristle. Niles wished for a moment that he could read the businessman's mind – he'd give anything to hear what was worrying Chandler about the police turning up.

A previous charge of violence and harassment? Unpaid taxes or parking tickets? Or simply the damage it would do to his reputation?

Maybe it was all of those things and maybe it was none. Whatever it was, it was enough to make Chandler back off, taking a step away and point warningly at the butler.

"This isn't over," he spat, more blood dripping from his chin onto the hallway carpet. "I'll be back, when your sorry ass least expects it!"

"I wasn't expecting you today, and I still beat you to the floor," Niles retorted, not even raising his voice. "Now get out and we won't have any more trouble."

They would if he didn't go, or if he left only to return. But Niles had already proved that he'd win in a fight, and both he and Chandler knew it. So the businessman turned and marched away, gesturing rudely over his shoulder at the butler as he left.

Only satisfied when he saw the light on the elevator start to head to the lobby, Niles turned and went back inside, closing the door forcefully and heading straight to the kitchen.

He could hear that C.C. was afraid still – she'd heard the shouting and the punches, and now everything sounded far too quiet...

He hurried back to her, trying to look far calmer than he really felt. He tried to sport his easy lopsided smile, which she adored (she'd said that in her thoughts too many a time).

"I got rid of the trash," he said, moving to hold her in a tight embrace – he could hear her delight (and relief) at him being alright. "He won't be back, I trust."

Niles dropped a kiss on C.C.'s lips, slipping his hands down her back, until they were nestled in the small of her back.

"Really?" she asked, running her fingers over the blonde stubble on his cheeks; it was scratchy, but the situation in itself felt...

...wonderfully domestic.

God... what was wrong with her?! When had she gotten so sentimental?

Semi-naked, in the arms of her lover, stroking his cheek and thinking that he needed a shave...

She was behaving like a doting housewife already!

And Niles was practically glowing inside, listening to it all.

"Domestic".

"Sentimental".

"Wife"…

That last one paired with the word "already" was sending him almost into his own world of bliss. And it was a bliss he got to share with the love of his life. He took her hand in his to kiss the palm, making sure he didn't scratch her too hard with his stubble.

"Really," he murmured against her skin. "You don't have to worry about him again. I promise you that."

" _God, he really is a knight in shining armour...!"_

Niles tried not to grin at how overwhelmed by affection she sounded. But then her thoughts quickly changed.

Changed, to what it meant about them. And if that really and truly meant-

"So, I can expect you to stick around for at least...a while?" she asked quietly.

She could expect it for more than a while. She was expecting it for more than a while – the hope in her eyes was only second to the thought in her head that what she wanted him to say next was making her heart speed up.

And he wasn't going to disappoint her.

"As long as "a while" means "forever"," he replied, knowing she was no longer afraid of what he could say. "I… I should have been honest far sooner, but now that I can be with you, I don't want to be anywhere else."

He heard her give the mental equivalent of a swoon, and he brought his own hand to her cheek.

"That is, if you want me to stay?"

Her mind practically screamed _"Yes!"_ before she pushed the thought down and reminded herself to play it cool. It wouldn't look any good if she lost it now - she'd embarrass herself in front of Niles!

So she leaned her forehead against his.

"I really do want you to stay, Butler Boy."

She called him her Butler Boy in her head, after that.

And Niles thought he might have died and gone to Heaven.

Her Butler Boy. He really was hers, and she'd said so!

Well, not out loud, but hearing it from her own thoughts was just as good! That meant she felt it, even if she wasn't entirely sure how to say it out loud yet. And for now, that was more than enough for Niles. He wasn't going to rush things before something happened and ruined it all.

And speaking of ruining, that was when Niles remembered the breakfast was still cooking.

"Good," he replied, kissing her once more before turning back the stove.

C.C. remained with him as he cooked, arms wrapped around his middle, chest pressed to his back and head propped on his shoulder. There was peaceful silence while he finished up breakfast, both in the room and in C.C.'s head.

It was... odd, the silence in her mind...

The peace that reigned in it, too.

He had always been a night owl, and, in a sense, the silence in her head reminded him of a quiet evening in the English countryside. It made him think of a starry sky, lonely winding roads, the faint crunch of gravel beneath his feet.

It reminded him of nightly walks, when the world was asleep and lonely. Those walks always found himself at his most peaceful.

He now found himself at his most peaceful, too, but he wasn't lonely anymore. He had the love of his life to hold and to protect.

They shared a small smile when he moved to plate their pancakes. She observed, still in mental and physical silence, as he dribbled maple syrup on their meal. Some butter followed.

"Where do you wanna eat?" he asked, breaking the silent spell.

"Bed?" she suggested.

" _The sooner we finish up, the sooner I'll have him in me…"_

Well, that was a thought Niles really couldn't refuse!

Smirking just enough so that she'd understand he was thinking along similar lines to what she wasn't saying, he picked up his plate as she picked up hers, and slipped his free arm around her waist as they began to leave the kitchen.

"I like the sound of that suggestion, Babs..."

C.C. chuckled, and he could hear she was going to try playing hard to get.

"Who said I was making a suggestion, Butler Boy?" she asked aloud.

Niles held his tongue on exactly who, and instead paid attention to what she was thinking. She was imagining him putting maple syrup on her chest, and she was directing where to put his mouth.

He almost didn't want to make it to the bedroom, but he had to hold fast.

"No one, my dear," he replied pleasantly, before leaning close to growl in her ear. "I just happened to think of a brilliant use of all our leftover maple syrup..."

C.C. made him turn and go back to the kitchen for the bottle after that, and breakfast was certainly the sweetest either ever had.


End file.
